1 


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. 

• 


BLUFFTON: 


A     STORY    OF    TO-DAY. 


BY 

% 


M.%  J.    SAVAGE. 


THIRD  EDITION. 


BOSTON: 
GEO.   H.   ELLIS,    141    FRANKLIN   STREET. 

1889. 


COPYRIGHT,  1878, 
BY  LEE  AND  SHEPARD. 


OP   OEO.    H.    ELLIS,    141    FRANKLIN    STREET,    BOSTON. 


NOTE. 

THE  incidents  of  this  story  are  chiefly  facts.  This  is 
specially  true  of  those  things  that  may  to  some  readers 
appear  forced  or  exaggerated.  The  facts,  however,  do  not  all 
belong  to  any  one  place,  nor  to  the  experience  of  any  one  per 
son. 

The  people  who  live  in  Bluffton  will  doubtless  recognize 
some  touches  of  local  scenery ;  but,  if  they  look  to  find  the 
characters  among  their  friends  and  neighbors,  they  will  most 
certainly  be  mistaken. 

By  bringing  out  in  strong  relief  some  of  the  evils  of  one 
phase  of  religion,  and  some  of  the  good  of  the  opposite,  the 
writer  would  not  be  understood  to  assert  that  the  evil  is  all 
on  one  side  and  the  good  all  on  the  other.  He  has  simply 
emphasized  those  things  that  were  essential  to  his  present 
purpose.  Good  and  evil  are  both  human,  and  not  confined  to 
any  one  religious  type. 

MAY,  1878.  3 


CONTENTS. 


Ax  THE  LEVEE 


II. 
ON  THE  STEAMER 14 

III. 
RETROSPECT 23 

IV. 
FIRST  SUNDAY  AT  BLUFFTON 30 

V. 
To  THE  CAVE 39 

VI. 
THE  CONVALESCENCE 52 

VII. 
OTHER  STRANDS  IN  THE  THREAD     .       .       .       •       .       .61 

VIII. 
MARK  AND  TOM  TALK 72 

IX. 
A  GAME  OF  CROQUET,  AND  WHO  WON 84 

X. 
THE  MINISTER  IN  His  WORK 96 


6  CONTENTS. 

XL 
UNDERGROUND  RUMBLINGS        ...       .       .       .       •       .104 

XII. 
MR.  FORREST  AND  MRS.  GREY 112 


XIII. 
A  SOUL  COME  TO  JUDGMENT 123 

XIV. 
THE  OFFENCE 134 

XV. 
MADGE  ENTREATS 146 

XVI. 
A  TERRIBLE  SUSPICION 156 

XVII. 
AN  EXCHANGE  AT  MAPLE  CITY 162 

XVIIL 
THE  COUNCIL 174 

XIX. 
TOM  SPEAKS 186 

XX. 

THE  BROKEN  RING 196 

XXI. 
RECONSIDERATION 2oS 

XXII. 
THE  REVENGE  OF  SLIGHTED  LOVE 219 

XXIII. 
ADRIFT  ............    229 

XXIV. 
A  STRANGE  MEETING 238 


BLUFFTON: 
A    STORY    OF    TO-DAY. 


I. 


AT  THE  LEVEE. 

WHY  do  you  call  it  Maple  City?  "  said  Mark,  as,  after 
an  hour's  walk  about  the  town,  he  and  his  friend 
Tom  were  slowly  strolling  down  the  street  —  cut  through 
the  bluff — that  led  to  the  levee. 

"Oh  !  I  don't  know,"  replied  Tom,  "unless  it  may  be  for 
the  reason  that  the  place  isn't  a  city,  and  hasn't  a  maple-tree 
in  its  limits.  As  for  the  matter  of  names,  you  know  all  the 
towns  East  have  a  Spruce  Street,  and  a  Pine  Street,  and  gen 
erally  there  isn't  a  spruce  or  a  pine  in  sight.  Perhaps  the 
mental  suggestion  has  some  shade  and  comfort  in  it." 

"  And  as  for  your  cities,  Tom,  I  understand  that  all  cross 
roads  are  cities  out  here." 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "just  as  the  peddler  shouted  '  Hot  pies  ! ' 
because  that  was  '  what  they  called  'em.'  They  name  towns 
here  on  the  same  principle  that  mothers  christen  their  chil 
dren  George  Washington  and  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  —  seem- 

7 


S  BLUFFTON. 

ing  to  have  the  notion  that  the  quality  of  the  name  will 
somehow  strike  in,  and  make  Congressmen  out  of  'em 
some  day." 

"Towns  grow  so  fast,"  replied  Mark,  "that  I  suppose 
they  want  the  name  big  enough  to  cover  the  future.  Now,  I 
am  assured  by  the  committee  from  Bluffton  that  the  place  will 
at  least  double  in  five  years.  And  if  they  get  the  Great 
Central  Railroad,  for  which  this  and  all  the  neighboring 
places  are  fighting,  they  will  even  double  on  that." 

" '  They  all  do  it,'  "  drolly  replied  Tom.  "  All  the  places 
are  going  to  double  in  three  to  five  years.  But,  if  some  of 
them  don't  '  flat  out '  on  their  expectations,  they'll  have  to 
import  the  inhabitants  of  the  neighboring  planets  to  furnish 
people  enough.  And  then,  as  to  railroads,  they  seem  to 
overlook  one  thing,  —  that  it  is  just  as  easy  to  get  out  of 
town  on  a  new  road  as  it  is  to  get  in,  and  that  people  may 
leave  as  well  as  come." 

"But,  at  any  rate,"  said  Mark,  "it  indicates  the  young 
blood,  the  vigor,  the  hope,  of  a  great  nation  whose  life  is 
ahead,  a  prophecy,  and  not  a  page  in  history  illustrated  by 
ruins.  A  burly,  growing  boy  is  always  extravagant :  he 
always  wants  the  biggest  boots  and  trousers  he  can  get,  be 
cause  he  feels  the  undeveloped  man  in  him,  and  wants  to 
appear  like  one.  Little  old  men  I  never  took  to  anyhow. 
The  boy  who  is  forty  years  old  at  thirteen  will  be  too  tame 
for  usefulness  by  the  time  he  is  thirty,  and  ought  to  be 
buried  at  thirty-five.  So  I  say,  Hail  to  the  awkward  but 
irrepressible  vigor  of  the  New  West." 

"  Well,"  said  Tom,  "  you've  made  your  peroration  just  in 


AT    THE    LEVEE.  9 

time  ;  for  there  is  the  smoke  of  the  steamer  rising  just  over 
the  point  yonder,  and  you'll  hear  your  first  Mississippi  whis 
tle  in  a  moment." 

The  two  young  men  now  stood  on  the  levee.  The  Rev. 
Mark  Forrest,  after  a  year  or  two  of  outpost  duty,  now,  at 
the  age  of  twenty-five,  was  on  his  way  to  take  charge  of  an 
evangelical  church  at  Bluffton,  a  "  city  "  some  miles  farther 
down  the  river.  Tom  was  an  old  school-friend,  five  years 
his  senior,  who,  taking  to  business,  had  gone  West,  made 
and  lost  one  or  two  fortunes,  married,  and  with  his  Western 
wife  and  two  bright  children,  was  now  living  at  Maple  City. 
Mark,  who  had  never  seen  the  Mississippi  before,  had  tele 
graphed  his  friend  to  meet  him  for  the  hour  between  the 
arrival  of  the  train  and  the  time  for  the  steamer  on  her 
down  trip.  He  had  met  the  church  committee  in  the 
East,  and,  after  consultation,  had  consented  to  go  out  like 
Abraham,  "  not  knowing  whither  he  went."  And  here  he 
was  so  far  on  his  way.  His  trunk  and  small  library  had 
been  sent  on  by  express,  so  that  he  stood  with  only  his 
travelling-bag  in  his  hand.  As  it  was  Saturday,  and  he  must 
preach  his  first  sermon  to  his  new  people  on  the  following 
day,  he  could  only  pay  his  friend  this  flying  visit  on  the  way. 
They  could  now,  being  so  near  each  other,  tie  up  the  bro 
ken  threads  of  their  old  intimacy  at  their  leisure. 

And  now  the  steamer,  rounding  the  headland,  swept  into 
full  view,  at  the  same  time  sending  out  an  unearthly  scream, 
as  if  to  strike  terror  into  the  heart  of  the  western  wilds,  and 
give  the  woods  warning  of  the  speedy  approach  of  the  rail 
road  and  the  steam-plough.  To  Mark,  who  had  seen  only 


IO  BLUFFTON. 

ocean-steamers  before,  she  was  a  new  sensation.  A  tall  pole 
tipped  with  a  gilded  ball  rose  into  the  air  from  the  extreme 
end  of  her  bow ;  two  smoke-stacks,  high  above  every  thing 
else,  belched  out  enormous  volumes  of  black,  soft-coal 
smoke,  that  floated  lazily  on  the  still,  bright  June  air;  a 
black  mass  of  men,  relieved  by  the  gayer  colors  of  the 
women,  crowded  forward  on  the  shoreward  side.  She  looked 
all  decks  and  cabins  and  saloons ;  while  the  bow  end  of  her 
low  hulk  was  piled  up  with  bales  and  boxes  and  barrels, 
sprinkled  all  over  which  were  the  tow-colored  rags  and 
ebony  faces  of  the  "  roustabouts,"  whose  business  it  was  to- 
"  tote  "  the  freight  aboard  and  ashore. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  her,  Mark?  "  said  Tom. 

"  I  think,"  replied  Mark,  "  that  a  party  of  friends  on  an 
outdoor  boat  like  this,  floating  on  such  a  glassy  river,  and 
through  such  a  perfect  air,  and  under  such  a  soft  sky,  drifting 
on  through  sweeps  of  wide  prairie,  and  along  dark  woods, 
and  past  bright  young  towns,  might  easily  fancy  themselves 
to  have  found  the  '  earthly  paradise  '  with  modern  improve 
ments.  As  I'm  in  no  hurry  to  get  aboard,  let's  stand  here,, 
and  see  the  people,  and  the  process  of  landing." 

The  steamer  now  headed  in  toward  the  shore,  and,  with  a 
grating  noise  on  the  bottom,  ran  her  "  nose  "  against  the 
levee.  The  river-current  caught  the  stern,  and  slowly  swung 
her  round  until  she  rested  quartering  on  the  bank,  and 
headed  up  stream.  And  now,  as  the  planks  were  run  out, 
belated  hacks  came  tearing  down  the  streets,  carts  rattled 
over  the  stones,  and  numberless  "  men  and  brothers  "  yelled 
on  their  bony  steeds  attached  to  their  two-wheeled  drays;. 


AT   THE   LEVEE.  II 

and  others  came  with  trunks,  boxes,  or  casks  on  their  shoul 
ders,  from  the  warehouses  or  the  neighboring  station.  But, 
above  all  the  noise  of  the  crowd,  one  sound  caught  and 
fixed  the  attention  of  Mark  :  it  was  the  stupendous  swearing 
of  the  mate.  He  had  witnessed  displays  of  profanity  before, 
so  elaborate  as  to  entitle  them  to  rank  as  works  of  art ;  but 
as  he  stood  here,  and  saw  him  pile  Ossa  upon  Pelion,  beheld 
"  Alps  on  Alps  arise,"  and  looked  down  into  yawning  gulfs 
of  blasphemy,  it  seemed  to  him  that  here  was  a  Titan  play 
ing  with  the  gigantic  upheavals  of  language,  while  ordinary 
men  only  walked  along  on  the  commonplace  flats  of  the  dic 
tionary.  Of  course  he  was  shocked ;  but,  while  he  was  one 
who  shrunk  from  every  touch  of  irreverence,  his  sense  of 
the  ludicrous  was  so  developed  that  sometimes  the  absurd 
ity  of  a  thing  made  him  forget,  for  the  time,  its  wickedness. 
Turning  to  Tom,  he  said,  — 

"  Is  that  a  specimen  of  Western  ability  in  the  profanity 
line?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  with  a  shade  of  irony  in  his  tone  :  "  in 
this  glorious  Western  world  you  must  expect  to  find  the 
proportions  of  things  maintained.  The  man,  you  see,  is 
ambitious  to  have  his  swearing  on  the  same  magnificent  scale 
as  our  '  mighty  '  rivers  and  our  '  boundless  '  prairies." 

"  But  do  they  all  swear  like  that  ?  Listen  now  !  It  rattles 
through  the  clouds  of  his  words  like  the  jerk  and  crash  of 
lightning  in  a  thunder-storm." 

"  All  the  mates  do,"  Tom  replied  :  "  it  seems  to  be  their 
special  business  to  swear  at  the  deck-hands.  They  hurl 
oaths  at  them  as  if  they  were  stones,  and  crack  them  over 


12  BLUFFTON. 

the  back  with  a  sharp  phrase  as  if  it  were  the  sting  of  a  lash. 
They  get  so  used  to  it,  that  I  doubt  if  they  would  move  at 
all  if  they  were  spoken  to  in  ordinary  language.  They  are 
like  the  old  man's  oxen  that  we  used  to  laugh  about.  You 
know  they  got  so  used  to  being  sworn  at,  that,  when  the  old 
fellow  was  converted,  the  only  way  he  could  get  them  along 
was  to  sit  on  the  cross-board,  and  shout  at  them  profane- 
sounding  selections  from  the  New  Testament.  So  these 
fellows  would  '  slow  up  '  till  you  couldn't  see  them  move,  if 
he  didn't  swear  all  the  time." 

But  just  here  Mark's  eye  caught  sight  of  some  one  going 
up  the  plank,  and  in  an  instant  the  mate  was  forgotten. 

"  Tom,"  he  said,  "  I'm  in  luck.  There  goes  old  Judge 
Hartley.  Now,  you  see,  I'm  in  for  good  company  down 
the  river." 

"Judge  Hartley,"  said  Tom:  "  what  brings  him  out  here  ?" 

"  Oh  !  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  he  has  sold  out  East,  and  is 
moving  to  Bluffton.  He's  going  to  be  in  my  church." 

"  Then  I  pity  you,"  growled  Tom. 

"Why?"  briefly  inquired  Mark. 

"  Why  ?  Don't  you  remember  how  in  the  old  church  at 
home  he  was  always  on  the  scent  for  heresy?  He  even 
suspected  the  old  minister's  soundness  in  the  faith.  And 
now  let  me  warn  you  beforehand,  that,  if  you  happen  to 
learn  any  thing  that  hasn't  been  in  the  old  '  Bodies  of 
Divinity'  long  enough  to  get  rusty,  he'll  make  it  hot  for 
you." 

"  Oh  !  but  you're  too  hard  on  him,  Tom,"  answered  Mark. 
"  He's  just  my  idea  of  a  typical  Puritan ;  neither  better  nor 


AT    THE    LEVEE.  13 

worse.  He's  sunny  and  sweet  and  kind  in  his  home.  But 
all  his  natural  tenderness  has  been  laid  on  what  he  thinks  the 
altar  of  God.  So  it  is  a  matter  of  duty  with  him  to  hate  and 
fight  any  departures  from  orthodoxy.  He's  of  the  stuff  of 
which  martyrs  are  made ;  and,  being  ready  himself  to  die 
for  God's  truth,  his  sense  of  duty  would  stifle  all  tenderness 
toward  one  that  he  looked  upon  as  an  enemy  of  divine  reve 
lation.  But  he'll  broaden  a  little  out  here,  and  we'll  get  on 
capitally." 

"Well,  I  hope  so,"  said  Tom.  "  But  who  was  that  young 
lady  that  followed  the  judge  up  the  plank?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mark,  "  unless  it  is  one  of  his 
daughters.  I  haven't  seen  them  since  they  were  girls." 

"  Whoever  it  is,  hurry  up,  Mark,  for  they  are  taking  in  the 
plank.  Perhaps  you'll  find  light  enough  in  the  daughter  to 
relieve  the  sombreness  of  the  old  judge." 

"  Haven't  time  to  think  of  those  things  yet,"  said  Mark. 
"  But  good-by  :  I'll  write  after  Sunday." 

So  saying,  he  leaped  aboard.  The  bell  had  ceased  ringing, 
and  the  boat  swung  off  into  the  river.  He  stood  a  minute 
on  the  lower  deck,  as  she  swept  out  into  the  current ;  and 
then  went  up  the  gangway  to  find  the  judge. 

Judge  Hartley  was  a  tall,  close-shaven,  gray-eyed  man  of 
sixty.  Having  once  been  a  probate  judge,  the  title  still  re 
mained.  Retired  from  active  business  with  a  competency, 
he  had  decided  to  move  West,  and  make  his  future  home 
near  the  residence  of  his  only  surviving  brother. 


BLUFFTON. 


II. 

ON  THE  STEAMER. 

MARK  really  thought  —  and  no  wonder;  for  older  and 
wiser  men  have  done  the  same  before  him  —  that  his 
head  and  heart  were  too  full  of  other  things  to  have  any 
room  in  them  for  love.  He  was  going  to  study ;  he  was 
going  to  travel ;  he  was  going  to  test  himself,  and  find  out 
what  was  in  him  and  what  he  could  do,  and  so  make  him 
self  a  permanent  footing  somewhere, — before  he  allowed 
himself  to  think  of  a  home.  He  would  make  himself  and 
his  position  a  worthy  gift  before  he  would  presume  to  offer 
them  to  such  a  woman  as  he  would  love.  He  had  not  yet 
learned,  that,  though  "  marriages  of  convenience  "  are  always 
in  order,  real  love  does  not  come  at  a  beck,  nor  wait  to  be 
sent  for.  He  knew  not  as  yet  that  no  head  nor  heart  can 
be  crammed  so  full  but  that  love  will  find  himself  a  place, 
and  come  in  even  though  the  doors  are  shut. 

So,  while  he  looked  after  the  judge,  he  found  the  beginning 
of  a  pain  that  would  not  let  him  rest,  and  that  yet  he  would 
not  have  been  free  from  for  all  the  study  and  travel  and  am 
bitions  of  which  he  had  dreamed  since  boyhood.  While  he 
thought  he  was  only  walking  a  common  plank-deck,  he,  in 


ON    THE    STEAMER.  15 

reality,  stumbled  across  the  threshold  and  through  the  gate 
way  of  an  enchanted  "  castle  in  Spain,"  where  he  was  to 
find  dungeons  of  darkness,  and  instruments  of  exquisite 
torture,  as  well  as  galleries  of  pictures,  halls  of  song,  and 
lofty  towers  of  vision. 

Stepping  into  the  saloon  long  enough  to  register  his  name, 
pay  his  fare,  and  leave  his  satchel  at  the  office,  he  passed 
out  on  to  the  forward  deck.  Leaning  against  the  starboard 
rail,  he  stopped  entranced  with  the  beauty  of  the  scene ;  for 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  walked  into  a  waking  dream. 
It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  right  bank 
of  the  river  was  a  continuous  wood-crowned  bluff.  The 
river  itself  at  this  point  curved  south-east,  so  that  the  sun 
seemed  caught  in  the  ragged  tops  of  the  trees  straight 
ahead.  What  would  have  been  its  unbearable  brightness  in 
the  open  sky  was  broken  into  a  golden  mist  and  spray 
among  the  branches,  as  sometimes  the  falling  waters  of  a  cas 
cade  are  turned  into  a  sort  of  impalpable  cloud  of  glory  by 
jagged  rocks  and  the  height  of  their  fall.  The  river  was  a 
veritable  "  sea  of  glass."  The  air  was  mellow  and  soft,  and 
spread  over  the  scene  a  saffron-colored  haze  that  seemed 
the  stuff  of  which  dreams  are  made.  For  the  moment 
every  thing  was  still  save  the  distant  murmur  of  voices  and 
the  plash  of  the  paddle-wheels,  that  only  seemed  to  deepen 
the  silence. 

The  steamer  drifted  so  softly  that  it  was  almost  like  float 
ing  in  air.  There  was  in  his  mind  a  curious  blending  of 
memory  and  anticipation.  His  home,  his  childhood,  and 
his  old  life  were  behind ;  and  he  was  drifting  on  into  a  future 


1 6  BLUFFTON. 

of  unspeakable  glory.  This  was  the  Mississippi,  and  around 
him  was  a  new  world.  He  was  in  the  boat  of  De  Soto ;  and 
just  around  that  headland  yonder  would  spring  into  view  the 
fadeless  beauty  of  the  "  earthly  paradise  "  that  the  eager 
Spanish  eyes  so  looked  for  in  this  strange,  far-off  land.  And 
these  fancies  melted  into  the  visions  of  the  seer  of  Patmos. 
The  river  of  life,  and  the  mystic  trees,  and  the  sea  of 
crystal,  and  the  blinding  glory,  were  blended  with  the 
landscape.  He  gazed  straight  on  into  the  light ;  and  with 
his  eyes  half  closed,  and  lost  in  thought,  the  illusion  was 
complete.  Had  a  traditional  Bible  angel  floated  silently 
across  the  glory,  he  would  hardly  have  roused  from  his  brief 
revery ;  for  it  would  have  been  a  part  of  his  dream.  But 
what  he  did  see  startled  him  into  a  confused  self-conscious 
ness.  Turning  his  head  a  little,  as  he  became  aware  of  a 
presence  near  him,  he  found  himself  looking  straight  into 
the  face  of  what  seemed  to  him  the  most  beautiful  girl  he 
had  ever  looked  upon.  He  had  read  of  such  in  poem  and 
romance ;  but  he  had  never  yet  believed  that  there  was  in 
flesh  and  blood  a  face  and  form  like  this.  In  one  rapid 
glance,  —  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  —  he  took  in 
the  fact  that  her  figure  was  faultless,  her  dress  so  perfect  as 
to  be  forgotten,  her  face  oval  in  shape  and  brunette  in  com 
plexion.  Her  heavy  masses  of  hair  were  black,  as  were  the 
long  lashes  that  shaded  her  eyes ;  and  her  eyes  themselves 
were  liquid  and  deep,  like  the  bottomless  lakes  that  lie  tree- 
fringed  at  the  feet  of  lofty  mountains. 

He  had  only  time  to  note  these  particulars,  and  to  accuse 
himself  of  rudeness  for  thus  staring  in  the  face  of  a  stran- 


ON    THE    STEAMER.  I/ 

ger,  when,  in  a  voice  that  betrayed  only  girlish  unconscious 
ness  and  the  frank  simplicity  of  a  guileless  nature,  she  said,  — 

"Isn't  this  Mr.  Forrest?" 

There  was  a  moment  of  confusion  before  he  could  fully 
believe  that  this  human  angel,  that  had  so  suddenly  stepped 
out  of  his  vision  of  glory,  had  really  spoken  to  him ;  but, 
seeing  her  look  frankly  in  his  face  for  reply,  he  answered,  — 

"  Certainly,  that  is  my  name  ;  but  you  must  pardon  me  if 
I  do  not  remember  you.  I  have  never  seen  a  face  "  —  "  so 
beautiful  as  yours,"  he  just  saved  himself  from  saying ;  and 
finished  not  very  elegantly,  by  adding  —  "  like  yours." 

She  recognized  the  broken  and  awkward  phrase  by  a 
quizzical  look,  which  soon  passed,  leaving  only  her  simple 
unconsciousness  once  more,  and  added,  — 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  would  know  me.  Have  I  really 
changed  so  much  in  six  years?  I  am  Margaret  Hartley. 
You  used  to  call  me  Madge  when  I  was  a  little  girl." 

"  You  really  must  forgive  me  for  forgetting  you,"  said  he. 
"  I  was  in  a  day-dream  when  I  first  caught  sight  of  your 
face.  If  you  hadn't  spoken,  I  fear  I  should  have  taken  you 
for  a  part  of  my  vision  ;  but,  indeed,  you  have  changed  from 
the  fly-away  Madge  I  knew  at  school." 

"  Not  for  the  worse,  I  hope,"  said  she ;  and  then,  without 
waiting  for  the  reply  that  she  knew  courtesy  at  least  would 
make  complimentary,  she  continued,  — 

"Perhaps  I  recognized  you  the  more  readily  because 
father  and  I  have  been  speaking  of  you.  We  knew  to-mor 
row  was  to  be  your  first  Sunday  in  Bluffton,  and  we  were 
wondering  what  sort  of  minister  you  had  grown  to  be.  We 
are  to  be  of  your  flock,  you  know." 


t8  BLUFFTON. 

"  Yes :  I  had  heard  that  you  were  moving  West ;  and, 
indeed,  as  I  stood  on  the  levee  at  Maple  City,  I  saw  your 
father  go  up  the  plank,  but,  not  seeing  your  face,  I  did  not 
recognize  you  as  the  one  who  was  with  him." 

"  Mother  is  dead,  you  know ;  and  the  other  girls  we 
have  left  in  Chicago  with  aunt,  until  we  get  the  house 
ready  to  receive  them.  I  am  the  housekeeper  now.  But 
father  must  be  wondering  what  has  become  of  me.  Don't 
you  want  to  see  him?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  It  was  he  I  had  started  to  find  when 
the  wonder  of  this  new  river  scenery  threw  me  into  the  day 
dream  in  which  your  face  appeared.  I  was  more  glad  than 
I  can  tell  when  I  saw  him ;  for  I  did  not  like  to  enter  on  my 
new  field  alone.  It  will  make  the  strange  church  seem  like 
home  to  see  his  face  among  the  pews.  Where  have  you  left 
him?" 

"  Aft,  I  believe  the  sailors  call  it :  on  the  deck  at  the  rear 
of  the  saloon.  I  had  been  at  my  stateroom  for  a  moment, 
and  strayed  this  way,  on  coming  out,  to  take  a  look  down 
the  river.  I  have  visited  here  before,  and  the  scenery  seems 
like  an  old  acquaintance.  Uncle  James  lives  at  Bluffton,  you 
know." 

This  was  said  as  they  walked  together  down  the  saloon. 
There  was  a  friendly,  old-time  greeting  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Forrest  and  Judge  Hartley.  And,  drawing  three  camp-stools 
together,  they  sat  down  and  talked  over  the  past,  and  went 
over  the  causes  that  brought  them  all  out  to  their  new 
Western  home. 

The  boat  glided  onward,  opening  up   behind   them   an 


ON    THE    STEAMER.  19 

ever-changing  panorama  of  loveliness.  Now  a  bluff  stood 
out  boldly,  and  with  its  rocky  front  looked  down  upon  them 
as  they  drifted  through  its  shadows.  On  the  other  shore, 
the  prairie  stretched  off  for  miles,  till  a  range  of  hills,  tipped 
with  the  rays  of  the  slanting  sun,  closed  in  the  horizon. 
Then  a  green  valley,  down  which  a  tree-shaded  creek  ran 
darkly  in  the  deepening  shadow,  wound  off  and  up,  and  hid 
itself  in  the  mystery  of  the  hills.  And  here  and  there  were 
islands  that  were  emeralds  set  in  crystal. 

Pointing  out  to  each  other  the  beauties  of  scenery  as  they 
passed,  they  fell  to  talking  of  their  coming  life  and  work. 

"  This  Western  country  is  grand  and  wonderful,"  said  the 
judge.  "  But  I  imagine  that,  religiously,  it  is  not  much  like 
New  England.  There  is  a  little  colony  of  the  Puritan  ele 
ment  at  Bluffton ;  and  we  must  try  to  be  like  the  leaven  of 
the  Scriptures,  and  see  if  we  can't  bring  them  to  our  New- 
England  ways." 

"  I  have  only  seen  two  or  three  of  the  people,"  answered 
Mr.  Forrest,  "  and  do  not  know  much  about  the  rest  of  the 
inhabitants." 

"  I'm  afraid  they're  a  godless  set,"  replied  the  judge. 
"  My  brother  writes  me,  that  it  is  a  sabbath-breaking,  horse- 
racing,  drinking  place,  not  much  like  the  God-fearing  town 
we  are  used  to." 

"  We  must  show  them  a  better  style  of  morals,  then," 
said  Mr.  Forrest. 

"  Morals  ! "  rather  emphatically  exclaimed  the  judge. 
"  Morals  are  good  enough  as  far  as  they  go ;  but  they  need 
something  deeper  than  that.  Morals  never  yet  saved  a 


2O  BLUFFTON. 

town  any  more  than  an  individual.  It's  the  gospel  they 
need,  —  the  pure,  unadulterated  gospel ;  and  I  hope  that 
you  are  ready  to  preach  it  to  them  fearlessly,  Mr.  Forrest." 

"I  trust,"  modestly  replied  he,  "that  I  shall  be  able  to 
preach  God's  truth  to  them,  and  help  them  mend  their 
ways." 

"  Good,  hard  doctrine,"  continued  the  judge,  "  the  wrath 
of  God  against  sin,  the  'sincere  milk  of  the  word,'  salvation 
only  through  the  atoning  blood,  —  that  is  what  they  need." 

"We  must  expect,"  he  replied,  "to  find  their  ways  differ 
ent  from  ours.  All  new  countries  are  rough  at  first.  It's  a 
lower  type  of  civilization." 

"  Don't  talk  of  '  civilization,'  and  '  different  ways,'  "  said 
the  judge.  "  Such  words  savor  too  strongly  of  worldly  wis 
dom,  and  'philosophy  falsely  so  called.'  Sin  is  the  same 
thing,  and  comes  from  the  same  Devil,  all  the  world  over. 
We  must  be  uncompromising.  The  strongholds  of  Satan's 
kingdom  must  be  attacked  by  the  '  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of 
Gideon.' " 

Mr.  Forrest  was  as  earnest  in  his  faith,  and  thought  him 
self  as  sound  in  his  orthodoxy,  as  the  judge.  But,  though  he 
remembered  the  tone  in  his  conversation  that  used  to  be  so 
familiar  in  the  old  prayer-meeting  talks  at  home,  it  had 
now  a  strange,  far-away  sound  in  his  ears.  He  had  become 
accustomed  to  put  his  religious  meanings  into  the  talk  of 
every  day,  thinking  it  better  to  translate  divine  messages 
into  the  language  of  the  street.  So  he  was  not  sorry  when 
Madge  jumped  to  her  feet,  as  the  whistle  blew  its  shrill  blast, 
and  said,  — 


ON    THE    STEAMER.  21 

"  Come,  father  and  Mr.  Forrest,  let's  leave  theology  now, 
and  see  the  steamer  pass  through  the  bridge." 

They  rose  and  hurried  through  the  saloon,  and  stood 
together  on  the  forward  deck.  They  were  just  in  time. 
The  draw  had  swung  to  its  place,  and  the  quickening  cur 
rent,  as  it  rushed  between  the  piers,  was  bearing  the  steamer 
on  with  its  rapid  flow.  The  boat  seemed  to  thrill  with  the 
lift  of  the  waters ;  and  she  shot  through  the  opening  as  if 
rejoicing  in  the  intelligence  and  grace  of  motion  of  a  living 
thing. 

And  now  Bluffton  itself  was  in  sight,  and  the  boat  was  all 
astir  with  the  preparation  for  landing.  They  stood  for  a 
moment  to  take  in  the  natural  features  of  the  town.  Mark 
first  noticed  the  tall  bluff  at  its  southern  end,  from  which  it 
took  its  name.  Sheer  up  it  rose  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet, 
crowned  with  one  lone  tree  on  the  edge  of  its  summit,  whose 
gnarled  and  crooked  roots  stretched  out  and  curled  down 
over  its  rocky  face.  A  lower  and  irregular  range  of  hills 
stretched  round  in  a  semicircle,  bounding  the  horizon  at 
the  back  of  the  town,  and  jutting  out  boldly  again  on  the 
river-bank  above  the  city  in  another  bluff  only  less  noticeable 
than  the  first.  A  stream  ran  through  the  city,  dividing  it 
irregularly  into  an  upper  and  lower  town.  Its  nearer  side 
had  all  the  dingy  and  ill-kept  appearance  that  marks  so 
many  of  these  river-towns ;  but  it  looked  very  picturesque 
and  beautiful  as  it  stretched  back  from  the  river-front,  and 
climbed  past  the  open  square  and  up  to  the  tops  of  the  hills 
that  were  brilliant  with  the  glory  of  the  setting  sun. 

The  scene  on  the  levee  only  repeated  that  at  Maple  City ; 


22  BLUFFTON. 

save  that  the  judge  and  Margaret  recognized  and  beckoned 
to  the  friends  that  waited  for  them  on  shore.  Mr.  Forrest 
himself  saw  a  member  of  the  church  committee  that  had 
met  him  at  the  East,  come  to  welcome  him  to  his  new  field. 
As  they  passed  down  the  plank,  he  bade  the  judge  a  hearty 
good-night,  saying, — 

"We  shall  meet  again  to-morrow." 

And  now  for  the  first  time,  at  parting,  he  took  the  hand 
of  Margaret,  thrilled  with  the  consciousness  that  it  was  no 
longer  a  child's  hand  to  be  touched  or  dropped  indifferently, 
but  the  hand  of  a  woman.  He  had  shaken  the  hands  of  a 
thousand  women  before,  and  only  regarded  it  as  a  formal 
piece  of  ceremony.  But  this  soft  touch  tingled  in  his  veins, 
and  throbbed  wildly  through  his  heart.  All  pure,  new  love 
has  about  it  a  sense  of  reverent  awe.  So  while  he  would  not 
have  dared  to  hold  her  hand,  or  give  it  conscious  pressure,  a 
new  sense  of  loss  came  over  him  when  it  was  withdrawn ; 
and  he  trembled  as  he  waked  up  to  the  fact  that  the  power 
of  control  over  his  own  future  happiness  had  passed  out  of 
his  hands,  and  now  lay  in  the  touch  and  look  of  one,  who,  so 
far  as  he  knew,  was  utterly  indifferent  to  him  except  on  the 
one  point  as  to  whether  she  was  going  to  like  or  dislike  him 
as  a  minister. 

So,  while  he  was  driven  to  the  hotel,  he  became  aware  that 
Bluffton  now  had  in  it,  for  his  weal  or  woe,  something  besides 
a  church. 


RETROSPECT.  23 


III. 

RETROSPECT. 

AND  now,  while  the  young  minister  is  resting  from  his 
journey,  and  preparing  for  the  word  he  must  speak 
to-morrow,  and  which  is  to  strike  the  keynote  to  the  work 
which  he  is  to  undertake  in  Bluffton,  let  us  glance  back  a 
little,  and  see  who  and  what  kind  of  a  man  he  is. 

In  person  he  was  a  little  above  the  medium  height,  straight, 
broad-shouldered,  and  rather  muscular  in  his  build.  His 
head  was  large,  and  covered  with  wavy,  soft  brown  hair. 
His  forehead  was  high  and  broad,  and  terminated  at  the  base 
by  cliffs  of  brows  that  reminded  one  of  Tennyson's  "  bar  of 
Michael  Angelo ;  "  while  beneath  these  were  a  pair  of  large 
gray  eyes,  set  so  deep  that  they  looked  smaller  than  they 
were,  except  when  he  was  animated  in  private  or  roused  in 
public  speech.  His  nose  was  large,  straight,  and  prominent. 
A  long  and  firm  upper-lip  was  completely  concealed  by  a 
heavy  moustache,  with  the  exception  of  which  his  face  was 
smooth.  The  face  —  which  was  strong  and  striking  rather 
than  handsome  —  was  rounded  by  a  chin  no  way  remarkable, 
but  only  in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  his  features.  He  dressed 
in  accordance  with  the  one  canon  of  perfect  taste  that  he 


24  BLUFFTON. 

was  always  ready  to  advocate  for  both  man  and  woman,  — 
so  well  and  so  simply  that  no  one  would  think  any  thing 
about  the  dress,  but  only  notice  and  remember  the  person. 

He  had  behind  him  such  a  memory  of  struggle  and  toil  as 
fitted  him  to  understand,  and  brought  him  into  keen  and 
ready  sympathy  with,  all 

"  The  low,  sad  music  of  humanity." 

Born  in  poverty,  a  hard-working  farmer's  son,  he  kept  ever 
hanging  in  his  study,  as  an  ideal  portrait  of  his  remem 
bered  childhood,  the  picture  of  Whittier's  "  Barefoot  Boy." 
Many  a  time,  sleeping  up  under  the  bare,  sloping  roof  of 
the  little  old  brown  farmhouse  garret,  while  the  wild  winter 
storm  rocked  and  sung  him  to  sleep,  had  he  waked  in  the 
morning  to  find  a  snowdrift  sifted  through  the  broken  roof, 
and  lying  across  his  bed.  Rising,  the  winter  through,  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  do  his  father's  and  the  neigh 
bors'  "  chores,"  and  cut  the  wood  for  the  day's  fire,  before  the 
time  for  school,  he  was  used  to  trudging  through  the  snow, 
thin-clad,  to  the  old  district  schoolhouse,  and  struggling 
hard,  or  playing  hard,  to  keep  back  the  tears  that  the  nip 
ping  cold  would  extort. 

He  was  strongly  religious  in  his  natural  bent,  and  he  was 
nursed  and  trained  in  all  the  traditional  views  and  ways  of 
orthodoxy.  Dreaming  from  childhood  of  the  work  of  Jesus 
in  Judaea,  and  of  the  still  dark  wastes  of  heathendom  that 
had  not  heard  his  name,  he  used  to  wonder  why  all  men 
were  not  ministers  of  his  gospel ;  and  he  could  not  remem 
ber  the  time  when  he  did  not  plan  to  be  one  himself. 


RETROSPECT.  2  5 

He  was  cradled  amid  scenes  of  such  idyllic  country  beauty 
as  naturally  gave  an  aesthetic  and  poetic  turn  to  his  sensitive 
mind.  The  farmhouse  was  on  a  hill-top  overlooking  a 
lovely  river,  that  wound  away  past  intervale  and  wood,  till  it 
lost  itself  in  the  hills  that  rose  higher  and  higher  northward 
in  a  range  of  mountains  that  closed  in  the  horizon  about  the 
region  of  the  lakes.  A  brook,  the  scene  of  childhood  sports, 
of  adventures  of  hunting  and  fishing,  wound  through  the 
meadow,  and  poured  its  tiny  tribute  into  the  river  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill. 

He  rummaged  through  the  village  library,  and  feasted  on 
the  wit,  humor,  and  satire  of  the  first  series  of  the  "  Biglow 
Papers  ;  "  he  devoured  Pope  and  Dry  den  and  Cowley,  and 
twice  read  through  "  Paradise  Lost,"  long  before  he  had  any 
idea  of  general  literature,  or  the  rank  to  which  these  writers 
were  entitled  on  the  world's  roll  of  fame.  He  also  had  the 
attack,  —  inevitable  as  teething,  —  to  which  all  thoughtful 
children  are  subject,  of  verse-making  himself.  He  wrote 
verse  enough  for  a  book  by  the  time  he  was  fifteen,  which 
bashfulness  perhaps,  more  than  compassion  for  a  suffering 
humanity,  prevented  his  inflicting  on  a  patient  world. 

Such  were  some  of  the  salient  outlines  on  the  background 
of  his  memory. 

At  his  first  entry  of  the  seminary  for  theological  training, 
his  reverence  for  professors  and  learned  lecturers  was  such 
that  he  did  little  but  receive  and  absorb  their  teachings. 
He  even  regarded  as  presumptuous  the  hardihood  of  some 
occasional  student  who  dared  to  question  the  dictum  of  a 
master  in  divinity ;  and  he  thought  it  was  good  enough  for 


26  BLUFFTON. 

him  when  a  sharp  retort  and  a  "  settler  "  took  the  place  of 
an  explanation.  A  student  asked  Dr.  Wayland,  one  day, 
why  divine  inspiration  was  necessary  for  the  writing  of  the 
Book  of  Proverbs.  The  doctor  crushed  him  by  asking  him 
to  go  and  write  as  good  a  chapter  himself.  At  this  time 
Mark  would  have  looked  at  such  a  rejoinder  as  conclusive. 
He  did  not  stop,  till  afterwards,  to  think  that  because  "  not 
twenty  men  in  Boston  could  have  written  Shakspeare,"  as  a 
critic  once  profoundly  said,  that  hardly  proved  that  Othello 
was  inspired  and  infallible. 

But  toward  the  latter  part  of  his  seminary-life  he  began  to 
use  his  own  brain,  and  think  for  himself.  Not,  by  any  means, 
that  he  questioned  the  system  of  orthodoxy,  —  very  far  from 
it ;  but  he  began  to  feel,  that,  while  such  and  such  things 
might  be  true,  he  could  not  preach  as  a  mere  echo  of  others' 
thoughts.  It  must  be  true  to  him  before  he  could  dare  to 
speak  it.  Thus,  without  his  knowing  it,  he  admitted  a  prin 
ciple  fatal  to  his  soundness,  and  that  was  to  lead  him  a  long 
and  weary  and  painful  way. 

He  did  not  read  or  study  outside  of  his  system,  except  as 
special  books  were  pointed  out  to  him ;  and  these  he  was 
taught  to  consider  already  abolished,  or  as  profane  quibblers 
who  chose  "darkness  rather  than  light,"  and  were  therefore 
"  given  over  to  a  reprobate  mind."  A  perfect  divine  revela 
tion  had  been  given  to  men ;  and  only  the  wilfully  wicked 
refused  to  see  it.  One  prominent  professor  from  Union 
Seminary  advised  the  students  not  to  read  any  books  later 
than  the  seventeenth  century.  A  prominent,  successful  D.D. 
and  pastor  told  them  that  the  books  that  attacked  their 


RETROSPECT.  2/ 

system  were  weak,  if  not  venomous,  and  they  ought  not 
to  waste  their  time  in  reading  them,  but  spend  it  in  saving 
souls.  Beside,  Satan  was  able  to  make  "  the  worse  appear 
the  better  reason;"  and  since  man  was  fallen,  and  the 
divine  light  blotted  from  his  mind,  to  follow  "  profane  and 
carnal  reason "  was  chasing  a  will-o'-the-wisp  that  would 
lead  them  into  the  swamps  of  corruption,  and  endanger  their 
souls'  eternal  welfare. 

Through  such  influences  he  passed  to  his  work.  God  was 
to  be  found  only  in  the  Bible  as  interpreted  in  the  popular 
writings.  Man  was  corrupt ;  nature  was  only  to  be  used  to 
illustrate  revelation ;  and  the  great  scientific  thinkers  of  the 
world  had  lost  their  spiritual  vision  by  long  contact  with  a 
debasing  materialism. 

When  his  theological  course  was  completed,  he  said  to 
his  chum, — 

"  If  the  rest  of  you  choose  to  settle  down  in  some  little 
quiet  nook,  and  wither  into  a  petty  routine,  I  do  not.  I'm 
off  for  the  frontiers." 

"  But  what  will  you  get  on  the  frontiers  except  rough 
work?"  said  his  chum. 

"  I'll  get  a  knowledge  of  humanity ;  I'll  measure  the  size 
of  the  continent ;  I'll  see  how  my  theology  works  in  practi 
cal  life,"  said  he.  "Then,  if  I  wish  to  settle  East,  I  can 
labor  in  view  of  the  whole  field." 

So  off  he  went,  by  the  way  of  the  Isthmus,  to  California 
and  Oregon.  He  went  up  and  down  the  country,  exploring 
the  field,  the  wants  of  this  place  and  that,  and  at  last  located 
in  a  mining-camp,  and  began  preaching  in  schoolhouses 
and  on  the  street-corners  as  he  could  get  a  hearing. 


28  BLUFFTON. 

He  learned  one  thing  that  was  of  infinite  use  to  him  in  his 
after-life ;  and  that  was,  to  stand  strong  on  his  own  feet,  and 
place  the  man  before  the  minister.  The  "  Rev."  attached 
to  his  name,  he  soon  found  out,  instead  of  giving  him  cur 
rency  as  sterling  coin,  was  looked  upon  with  suspicion  as  a 
surface  indication  of  counterfeit  and  religious  swindle.  His 
being  a  minister,  instead  of  being  a  proof  of  manhood,  was 
rather  against  him.  After  he  had  proved  himself  a  man, 
then  they  began,  for  the  first  time,  to  respect  the  minister. 
Not  that  they  had  any  thing  against  ministers,  as  such ;  they 
remembered  home  too  well  for  that :  but  the  title  had  so  often 
been  used  to  cloak  a  sham,  that  they  wanted  to  know  what 
was  under  a  black  coat.  Wrecked  and  tumble-down  minis 
ters,  with  the  manhood  gone  out,  were  scattered,  like  desert 
ed  and  broken-roofed  cabins,  all  through  the  mining-regions. 

So  after  Mark  had  "cleaned  out"  some  "roughs"  that 
came  in  to  break  up  his  prayer-meeting;  after  he  had 
knocked  down  a  brute  on  the  street  for  abusing  a  little  boy ; 
when  they  found  that  he  was  always  on  the  side  of  right, 
"  meant  business  "  as  they  said,  and  was  always  ready  to 
"  help  a  feller  in  trouble,"  —  they  "  took  to  "  him  wonderfully. 
One  rough  old  miner  told  him  privately  that  "  he  didn't  know 
but  he  liked  him  'bout  as  well  ez  ef  he  warn't  a  minister." 
And  he  added,  "  Ef  yer  want  any  dust  to  help  a  boy  whose 
mine  has  '  petered  out,'  an'  who's  got  sick,  jes'  show  yer 
hand,  and  I'm  yer  man.  Or  ef  any  shufflin'  bilk  interferes 
with  your  meetin's,  I'll  clean  him  out  quicker'n  greased  light- 
nin'.  Yer  can  count  on  me." 

And  another  lesson  he  learned ;  and  that  was,  that  when 


RETROSPECT.  29 

dealing  with  men  who  cared  nothing  for  traditions,  who  got 
right  down  to  "  hard-pan  "  on  all  questions,  and  who  believed 
with  their  whole  souls  that  it  took  just  a  hundred  cents  in 
gold  to  make  a  dollar,  he  must  appeal  to  their  common 
sense  and  reason,  must  talk  home  to  their  every-day  life,  or 
else  he  might  as  well  not  talk  at  all. 

Along  with  this  kind  of  life,  he  had  read  and  studied  widely 
and  deeply  as  his  time  and  means  for  purchasing  books  per 
mitted  ;  for  he  wished  to  be  master  of  the  problems  of  the  day 
in  the  scholarly  world,  as  well  as  master  of  the  human  heart 
in  its  every-day  manifestations  of  common  life. 

When  you  stand  by  a  river-bank,  and  know  its  source  and 
general  trend,  you  can  with  tolerable  accuracy  forecast  its 
onward  course,  and  tell  into  what  ocean  it  will  empty.  So  it 
was  needful  that  so  much  of  the  past  course  of  the  young 
minister  should  be  indicated,  in  order  to  a  better  under 
standing  of  what  is  to  follow. 


3O  BLUFFTON. 


IV. 

FIRST   SUNDAY   AT   BLUFFTON. 

BY  eight  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning,  Mr.  Forrest  had 
eaten  a  light  breakfast,  —  the  slight  nervous  anxiety  he 
always  felt  when  he  was  to  speak  in  public  usually  took  away 
his  appetite,  —  and  was  on  his  way  to  Bowman's  Hill,  as  the 
keeper  of  the  "  Cosmopolitan  Hotel  "  informed  him  they 
had  christened  the  bluff  at  the  northern  end  of  the  town. 
As  he  turned  in  the  street,  and  looked  back  at  what  in  his 
Eastern  home  would  have  been  popularly  called  a  "  tarvern," 
he  smiled  at  the  ludicrous  suggestion,  that,  if  the  name  had 
been  any  bigger  for  so  little  a  hotel,  the  signboard  would 
have  stuck  out  at  both  ends  of  the  building.  And  the  term 
"  Cosmopolitan  "  had  in  it  painful  suggestions  of  the  bound 
less  hospitality  the  house  afforded  to  all  the  inferior  forms  of 
animate  life. 

But  he  soon  forgot  the  unpleasant  breaks  in  his  "visions  of 
the  night,"  as  he  thought  that  "  God  made  the  country,  but 
man  made  the  town."  The  scene  of  beauty  about  him  was, 
at  any  rate,  God's  work,  whatever  might  be  said  of  the  hotel. 
He  slowly  climbed  the  hill ;  for  as  he  was  to  speak,  not  read, 
that  day,  he  wisely  thought  a  breath  of  the  divine  inspiration 
of  nature  would  be  fitting  preparation. 


FIRST    SUNDAY    AT    BLUFFTON.  3! 

When  he  had  gained  the  hill,  he  looked  slowly  round,  and 
drank  in  the  scene.  As  he  gazed  down  and  up  the  river, 
and  over  the  prairie  beyond,  and  saw  the  city  so  silent  at  his 
feet,  while  the  still  sunlight,  like  magic  alchemist,  transmuted 
every  base  thing,  even  the  filthy  streets,  to  burnished  gold, 
his  lips  moved,  and  his  thoughts  found  involuntary  utterance 
in  those  words  that  have  become  a  part  of  so  many  fair 
nature-pictures, — 

"  Oh,  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  ? 
Then  if  ever  come  perfect  days." 

And  glancing  up  at  the  tender  blue  that  seemed  so  near, 
and  then  away  to  where  it  softly  rested  on  the  as  tender  green 
of  the  prairie,  he  continued,  — 

"  Then  heaven  tries  the  earth,  if  it  be  in  tune, 

And  over  it  softly  her  warm  ear  lays,  — 
Whether  we  look,  or  whether  we  listen, 
We  hear  life  murmur,  or  see  it  glisten." 

And  he  exclaimed  in  sincere  and  simple  devoutness,  "  O 
Lord,  how  manifold  are  thy  works  !  in  wisdom  hast  thou 
made  them  all." 

His  musing  was  interrupted  by  a  rough  voice  that  ex 
claimed,  — 

"  Waal,  young  man,  I  reckon  as  how  ye  must  be  fresh  in 
these  parts,  or  ye  wouldn't  be  up  here  at  this  time  in  the 
mornin'  alone,  gawkin'  round  ez  ef  ye'd  never  seen  a  river 
nur  a  payrarie  before." 

Mark  turned,  and  faced  a  man  bare-headed  and  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  who  appeared  to  belong  to  an  odd-looking  and 


32  BLUFFTON. 

diminutive  cottage  not  far  away.  When  he  saw  he  was  good- 
natured,  and  disposed  to  be  neighborly,  he  was  not  alto 
gether  sorry  to  be  interrupted  in  his  meditations;  for  he 
thought  he  could  ask  him  a  few  questions  about  the  city 
below.  So  he  answered  pleasantly,  — 

"  Yes  :  I  presume  I  am  one  that  you'd  call  '  fresh,'  having 
come  to  town  for  the  first  time  by  last  night's  boat ;  and  I 
never  saw  the  Mississippi  till  yesterday." 

"  Raally  ! "  said  he,  "  that  seems  sorter  Strange  to  one  who's 
looked  at  it  night  and  mornin'  for  nigh  thirty  year.  I  reckon 
it's  natur'  though.  'F  I  should  go  to  Chicago  or  St.  Louis, 
I  reckon  I  sh'd  stare  round  same's  you  do  here.  Ye  don't 
look  like  a  hotel-runner  nur  a  book-agent?" 

The  tone  of  voice  in  which  the  last  sentence  was  uttered 
turned  it  into  a  question ;  and,  as  Mr.  Forrest  had  no  objec 
tion  to  his  knowing  his  mission,  he  said, — 

"  No  :  I'm  a  minister.  I  preach  my  first  sermon  here  to 
day.  Perhaps  you  attend  what  is  to  be  my  church." 

"  Haven't  been  ter  church  this  ten  year,"  said  he,  "  'cept 
to  funerals.  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  what  the  churches 
calls  religion  any  more,  nohow.  I  b'long  ter  the  church  o' 
all-out-doors,  where  all  the  pews  is  free,  and  it  don't  cost 
nothin'  for  choirs,  coz  the  birds  do  the  music.  The  church 
es  is  full  o'  ornery  critters,  that  cheats  week-days,  and  prays 
Sundays.  Now,  thar's  the  Congregational  church  been 
raarin'  up  a  mighty  fine  meetin'-'us,  but  ain't  got  religion 
enough  ter  go  half  way  round.  Presbyterians  'bout  the 
same,  only  their  heaven's  a  leetle  smaller'n  the  Congrega- 
tionalists'.  The  'Piscopals  runs  the  Church  of  the  'Postolic 


FIRST    SUNDAY    AT    BLUFFTON.  33 

Succession,  where  they  have  sech  '  a  gentlemanly  mode  of 
worship/  as  one  on  'em  said  t'other  day.  'N'  then,  wuss'n 
all  the  rest,  is  the  Christ-yuns  and  Baptists,  always  fightin' 
'bout  a  leetle  more  or  less  water,  that  wouldn't  hurt  'em  any 
outside,  nur  do  'em  much  good  in.  They  talk  so  much 
'bout  water,  that  it  always  seems  sort  'er  swampy  and  soggy 
like,  round  a  Baptist  church,  and  makes  ye  feel  'z  ef  'twas 
a  kindo'  speritooal  fever-'n'-ager  country  they  live  in." 

"  Oh  !  but  you're  rather  hard  on  the  churches,  aren't 
you?"  said  Mr.  Forrest.  "I  know  they're  not  all  saints; 
but  that  is  because  they  don't  live  out  the  beauty  of  their 
religion.  It's  more  religion,  not  less,  that  we  all  need." 

"  Maybe,  young  man,"  said  he  ;  "  but  you'll  be  wiser  when 
ye  git  older.  Ask  yer  parding  for  speakin'  rough;  but  I 
like  yer,  and  am  sorry  ye  ain't  doing  something  better'n 
preachin.'  Now,  they  had  a  feller  here  not  long  sence,  that 
looked  so  ornery  't  I  thought  the  Lord  must  be  short  on't 
fer  hands  when  he  made  a  'postle  er  him.  But  you  look 
like  a  squar'  man,  az  ef  yer  hed  it  in  yer." 

"Thank  you  for  your  good  opinion,"  answered  Mark. 
"  Perhaps  you'll  think  better  of  my  religion  when  you  know 
its  better  side." 

"  Ez  ter  that,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  own  up  ter  bein'  'thout 
religion  now :  only  I've  got  my  own  kind.  I've  my  own. 
notions  'bout  God  an'  this  ere  universe.  I  don't  believe 
that  bluff  over  yander  wuz  made  in  six  days.  An'  I  think 
th'  Almighty  knew  what  he  was  'bout  from  the  fust.  I  'low 
it  don't  stan'  ter  reason,  that  after  he'd  got  things  done,  and 
called  'em  '  good,'  he  found  himself  dis'pinted  in  the  way 


34  BLUFFTON. 

the  machine  run,  and  had  ter  come  in  an'  fix  't  all  over 
again,  and  lose  the  biggest  part  o'  the  job  at  that.  'Cordin' 
ter  you  ministers,  the  Lord  gits  euchred  every  time,  coz  the 
other  feller  holds  all  the  trumps." 

"  Well,"  said  Mark,  "  I  haven't  time  to  talk  longer  now. 
I've  heard  you  through,  and  some  day  I'll  give  you  my  side 
of  these  questions.  I  must  be  getting  ready  for  church. 
Good  day  —  what  may  I  call  you?" 

"  Call  me  Uncle  Zeke,  if  you  will.  That's  my  every-day 
name.  I  live  over  thar'  in  the  cabin.  Latch-string's  allers 
out." 

Mr.  Forrest  now  started  down  the  hill,  and  walked  leisure 
ly  in  the  direction  of  the  church.  He  was  not  at  all  troubled 
by  what  he  tolerantly  regarded  as  the  natural  prejudices  of 
one  who  had  doubtless  received  rather  ill  usage  at  the 
hands  of  the  world. 

As  he  went  on,  he  saw  Major  Ward,  the  gentleman  who 
had  met  him  East,  and  who  drove  him  to  his  hotel.  He  had 
now  come  to  walk  with  him  to  the  church.  Mr.  Forrest 
related  his  adventure  ;  and  the  major  gave  him  some  account 
of  Uncle  Zeke,  whom  he  spoke  of  as  a  "  good,  honest  man, 
but  a  little  peculiar." 

The  bells  were  now  ringing  out  on  the  soft,  luminous  air ; 
and  the  streets  were  full  of  people  on  their  way  to  church. 
Seeing  Mr.  Forrest  with  the  major,  they  knew  he  must  be  the 
new  minister,  and  so  scanned  him  curiously  as  they  passed. 

"The  people  are  taking  my  measure,  major,"  said  he. 
"  They  are  looking  to  see  if  I  am  a  '  reed  shaken  by  the 
wind.'" 


FIRST    SUNDAY   AT    BLUFFTON.  35 

"  It'll  be  an  old  story  after  a  little,  and  I  think  you'll  enjoy 
it  when  you  get  settled  into  the  work.  This  is  a  field  of 
most  capital  promise." 

They  had  now  reached  the  church,  a  plain  but  nice  brick 
structure,  on  the  corner  of  Seventh  and  Linden  Streets, 
facing  the  public  square.  Mr.  Forrest  saw,  through  the  open 
door,  that  it  was  filled  by  a  pleasant  and  attractive-looking 
congregation.  He  passed  up  the  aisle,  and  took  his  seat  in 
the  pulpit.  He  was  used  to  facing  congregations  by  this 
time  ;  and  so,  while  modest  in  demeanor,  he  was  not  flurried. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  however,  he  was  afraid  of  eyes ; 
not  of  the  hundreds,  but  of  one  solitary  pair.  These  — 
the  eyes  of  the  angel  that  floated  into  his  yesterday's  vision 
—  looked  at  him,  and  pierced  him  through  and  through. 
He  trembled,  and  looked  down.  To  him  this  large  audience 
was  now  reduced  to  one.  He  wished  she  might  have  staid 
at  home  on  this  first  Sunday,  until  he  had  once  been  heard. 
He  did  not  care  whether  the  people  liked  the  sermon : 
would  she  like  it?  It  was  not  a  sense  of  pride  in  his  work, 
but  only  the  crushing  thought  that  he  could  not  bear  to  have 
her  hold  a  mean  opinion  of  him.  The  sweetest  flowers 
would  have  shrivelled  to  a  poor  and  unworthy  gift,  if  he  had 
thought  of  offering  them  to  her.  And  so  his  highest  and 
best  thoughts  seemed  poor,  because  she  was  to  listen. 
Would  she  think  him  awkward  ?  This  thought  almost  par 
alyzed  his  movements. 

But  the  time  came  to  speak ;  and  he  bravely  flung  away 
his  timidity,  and  began  the  service. 

He  took  for  his  text,  "  God  was  in  Christ,  reconciling  the 


3~6  BLUFFTON. 

world  unto  himself."  He  preached  a  sermon  of  nature  and 
of  life.  The  sweet  world  and  the  blue  sky,  and  the  high 
hope  of  a  young  and  noble  heart,  got  into  his  words.  He 
spoke  of  God  as  the  living  and  loving  God  to-day ;  of  Christ 
as  a  manifestation  of  his  saving  grace  that  waited  not  to  be 
sent  for,  but  went  out  after  the  lost ;  of  man  as  able  to  turn 
from  evil  when  he  would ;  and  he  closed  by  saying,  that,  if 
any  men  were  finally  lost,  it  would  only  be  because  they 
"would  not  come  and  have  life." 

At  the  close  of  service  he  had  what  to  him  was  the  exqui 
site  pleasure  of  touching  Miss  Margaret's  hand  once  more. 
And,  though  she  said  no  word  of  the  sermon,  there  was  that 
in  her  eyes  that  told  him  she  had  been  melted  and  moved. 
And  he  went  out  of  church  as  light  as  air,  feeling  that  all 
the  world  might  hate  and  despise  him,  if  it  would,  provided 
only  her  eyes  might  look  upon  him  with  approval. 

After  being  introduced  to  everybody,  he  accepted  an  invi 
tation  to  dine  with  Major  Ward.  And  we  will  leave  him  now 
in  his  care,  while  we  listen  to  a  few  comments  in  the  vesti 
bule  and  on  the  street. 

"  Oh  !  that  was  a  sweet,  gentle,  loving  sermon,  wasn't  it?  " 
said  old  Mr.  Buck. 

"Yis,"said  aunt  Sally  Rawson;  "but  I  don't  think  he'll 
never  do.  He'll  be  too  foppish,  I'm  afeared  :  his  hair  curls 
too  much  for  a  minister." 

"  And  there's  another  thing,"  said  old  Mrs.  Buck  :  "  he'd 
orter  be  married.  A  minister  ain't  wuth  nothin'  till  he's  got 
a  wife  to  help  him  do  his  parish  work.  An'  I  guess  there 
won't  be  much  spiritooality  about  him  as  long's  he's  gallivan- 


FIRST    SUNDAY    AT    BLUFFTON.  37 

tin'  round  with  all  the  handsome  gals.  Now,  my  old  man 
was  nothin'  till  I  took  him  in  hand,  and  settled  him  down ; 
and  he  ain't  a  minister  neither." 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  tartly  replied  Jane  Ann  Rawson,  "  of  course 
you'll  talk  that  way,  because  you  ain't  got  any  girls.  If  you 
had  one  fit  to  be  married,  you'd  think  he  was  a  special  prov 
idence." 

And  so  the  chatter  ran  on.  The  quiet  ones  went  away 
and  thought.  The  rattlers  went  away,  and  rattled  as  they 
went.  But  they  meant  no  harm  by  their  gossip,  and  were 
as  ready  to  like  the  new  minister  as  anybody. 

The  only  thing  that  boded  trouble  was  the  comments  of 
three  that  went  up  the  street  by  themselves,  —  Judge  Hart 
ley,  Mr.  Richard  Smiley,  and  Deacon  Putney,  who,  on  ac 
count  of  his  plastic  nature,  was  generally  called  Deacon  Putty 
by  any  one  who  was  speaking  of,  and  not  to,  him.  If  you 
wanted  to  know  his  opinion,  you  must  hunt  up  the  last 
strong-minded  man  who  had  spoken  to  him.  He  meant 
well :  so  of  all  stupid  tools  and  blunderers.  Meaning  to 
serve  the  Lord,  he  was  always  ready  to  do  the  Devil's  work, 
if  his  highness  only  came  playing  his  popular  part  of  the 
"  angel  of  light." 

"  I  like  him  capitally,"  said  Deacon  Putney :  "  that  was 
just  a  splendid  sermon." 

"Well,"  replied  Judge  Hartley,  "I'm  afraid  it  savors  a 
little  too  much  of  tenderness  towards  sin.  Of  course  God 
is  love  ;  but  he's  justice  too.  The  wickedness  of  man  needs 
the  wrath  preached.  God  is  love  toward  the  elect ;  but  to 
the  hardened  sinner  he  is  a  '  consuming  fire.'  But  I  won't 


38  BLUFFTON. 

judge  too  soon :  he  may  give  us  the  other  side  next  Sun 
day." 

"And  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Richard  Smiley,  "that  such 
preaching  is  fast  verging  toward  infidelity.  Not  a  word 
about  'justification  by  faith;'  not  a  word  about  the  'rags 
of  our  own  righteousness ; '  not  a  word  about  total  deprav 
ity,  and  the  uselessness  of  a  man's  trying  to  help  himself 
and  lead  a  good  life  in  his  own  strength  !  I  believe  that 
the  '  works  of  the  law '  are  a  curse,  and  that  what  we  need 
is  '  free  grace '  through  the  blood  of  Christ." 

He  didn't  know  enough  of  the  true  meaning  of  scrip 
ture  to  understand  that  it  was  just  the  "works  of  the  law," 
in  Paul's  sense  of  the  term,  to  which  he  was  really  trusting. 
And  Uncle  Zeke  on  the  bluff  sometimes  shrewdly  observed, 
that,  if  "  Dick  Smiley  ever  is  saved,  it  will  have  to  be  by 
faith,  sure  'nough.  For,  d'ye  see,  he  hain't  got  rags  o'  self- 
righteousness  'nough  round  his  whole  place  to  rig  out  a 
'spectable  scarecrow." 

But  Deacon  Putney,  after  the  ex-cathedra  opinion  of  Mr. 
Smiley,  made  nimble  work  of  getting  over  the  critical  fence ; 
and  said,  — 

"  Well,  yes  :  I  guess  p'raps  there's  a  deal  in  what  you  say. 
We'll  have  to  keep  our  eyes  open,  and  see  that  he  don't  win 
the  affections  of  the  church,  and  lead  'em  into  infidelity." 

Meantime,  at  the  house  of  Major  Ward,  Mr.  Forrest  was 
finding  pleasant  and  appreciative  entertainment.  The  major 
wholly  approved  of  the  sermon,  and  gave  him  a  hearty  right 
hand  on  the  promise  of  his  first  Sunday  in  Bluffton. 


TO   THE    CAVE.  39 


V. 

TO   THE   CAVE. 

MR.  FORREST  had  now  been  several  weeks  at  Bluffton, 
and  was  quietly  settled  down  to  his  work.  The 
other  two  of  the  judge's  daughters  had  come  on  from 
Chicago,  and  the  family  was  established  in  its  new  home. 
Mr.  Forrest  had  wearied  of  the  hotel,  and  been  admitted  into 
the  house  of  a  family  close  by  the  judge's,  and  had  fitted  up 
the  "  best  room  "  as  his  study.  The  people  had  exhausted 
their  petty  criticisms,  and,  when  they  were  done,  found  out 
that  they  really  liked  him  amazingly.  So  thoroughly  had  he 
gained  the  ear  and  respect  of  the  town  by  his  straight-out, 
simple  manliness,  that  even  Mr.  Richard's  Smiley's  instinc 
tive  dislike  was  hidden  beneath  a  cloak  of  seeming  admira 
tion.  And  of  course  Deacon  Putney  was  loud  in  his 
praises.  Judge  Hartley,  who,  where  he  did  not  consider  the 
honor  of  God  or  the  integrity  of  the  gospel  at  stake,  was  as 
gentle  and  loving  as  a  child,  had  been  thoroughly  won  over 
into  a  genuine  admirer  of  Mr.  Forrest,  and  tried  to  make 
him  feel  that  his  house  was  a  sort  of  home.  He  was  at 
liberty  to  come  and  go  as  he  would ;  and  always  there  was  a 
chair  for  him  at  the  table.  And  yet  there  was  no  house 


4<D  BLUFFTON. 

where  he  felt  less  free.  Perfectly  well-bred,  and  accustomed 
to  pass  at  ease  through  all  phases  and  forms  of  society,  — 
having  the  perfect  assurance  and  self-control  which  always 
seems  to  fascinate  women,  who,  weak  themselves,  instinct 
ively  admire  the  strong,  —  he  yet  felt  in  Madge's  presence  a 
certain  awe  and  constraint  such  as  a  Catholic  might  feel  in 
approaching  the  shrine  of  a  saint. 

So  much  at  home  did  he  at  length  become  in  the  family, 
that  they  talked,  read,  walked,  and  rode  together.  He  could 
not  decline  these  common  courtesies  without  appearing  to 
be  unaccountably  odd  :  he  did  not  wish  to  decline  them,  for 
he  was  irresistibly  drawn  to  her  side.  And  yet  he  could  not 
conceal  from  himself  the  fact  that  he  was  risking  the  peace 
and  happiness  of  his  life.  She  had  become  a  part  of  his 
waking  and  sleeping  thoughts.  He  could  not  bear  to  think 
of  the  future  with  her  face  and  form  left  out ;  and  still  he  was 
compelled  to  confess  that  he  had  no  reason  to  suppose  he 
could  win  her.  And  indeed  it  seemed  like  infinite  presump 
tion  to  think  of  calling  her  his  own.  All  first,  true  love  is 
worship ;  and  it  seems  like  profanation  for  a  mortal  to  ex 
pect  any  thing  more  than  a  smile,  or  permission  to  kiss  her 
hand,  from  the  goddess  he  adores.  The  ground  she  trod  on 
was  holy.  If  her  dress  accidentally  brushed  him  in  passing, 
it  thrilled  him  through  and  through  as  young  trees  thrill  at 
the  touch  of  the  spring-time  sun.  The  commonest  article 
of  apparel  that  she  had  worn  was  consecrated,  and  fit  to 
become  a  sacred  relic. 

The  house  where  he  boarded  was  just  across  the  street ; 
and  her  chamber  was  opposite  and  facing  his.  As  the 


TO   THE    CAVE.  4! 

Parsee  salutes  the  rising  sun,  and  then  goes  to  his  labor,  so 
he  felt  stronger  for  his  daily  task  if,  in  her  fresh  morning 
wrapper,  she  bestowed  upon  him  a  smile  and  a  nod  as  she 
threw  open  her  window  to  breathe  the  sweet  summer  air, 
and  sprinkle  the  thirsty  flowers  and  vines  that  turned  the 
window-seat  into  a  sort  of  hanging  garden.  And  sometimes 
he  would  sit  by  his  window,  and  read  his  own  thoughts  and 
longings  in  the  dainty  verse  of  Aldrich  :  — 

"  With  lash  on  cheek  she  comes  and  goes ; 
I  watch  her  when  she  little  knows : 

I  wonder  if  she  dreams  of  it. 
Sitting  and  working  at  my  rhymes, 
I  weave  into  my  verse  at  times 

Her  sunny  hair,  or  gleams  of  it. 

Upon  her  window-ledge  is  set 
A  box  of  flowering  mignonnette  : 

Morning  and  eve  she  tends  to  them,  — 
The  careless  flowers  that  do  not  care 
About  that  loosened  strand  of  hair, 

As  prettily  she  bends  to  them. 

If  I  could  once  contrive  to  get 
Into  that  box  of  mignonnette, 

Some  morning  when  she  tends  to  them  — 
She  comes  !     I  see  the  rich  blood  rise 
From  throat  to  cheek  !  —  down  go  the  eyes 

Demurely  as  she  bends  to  them." 

He  would  have  given  the  world  to  know  that  she  would 
care  to  have  him  as  near  to  her  as  the  mignonnette.  Then 
he  would  torture  himself  with  deliberately  making  up  his 


42  BLUFFTON. 

mind  that  of  course  she  cared  nothing  for  him,  and  never 
would.  "  She,"  he  would  think  to  himself,  "  is  a  native-born 
princess.  Some  rich  man  will  come,  and  fill  her  hair  with 
jewels,  and  spread  soft,  deep  carpets  for  her  dainty  feet,  and 
make  her  at  home  in  rooms  full  of  pictures  and  the  art-treas 
ures  of  the  world.  I  am  only  a  poor  minister.  What  can  I 
offer  her  ?  A  parsonage  and  parish  work ;  and  take  her  into 
the  midst  of  a  set  of  meddling,  criticising  fools,  who  think 
the  minister's  affairs  are  public  property,  who  will  find  fault 
with  every  rose  she  wears  in  her  hair,  and  will  think  her 
merry  laughter  is  sinful  levity  in  a  minister's  wife.  Bah  !  it 
would  be  an  insult  to  ask  her  to  do  it,  and  she  is  too  proud 
and  wise  ever  to  consent.  By  as  much  as  I  love  and  worship 

her  image, — 

'  I  must  tear  it  from  my  bosom, 

Though  my  heart  be  at  the  root.' " 

And  then  he  would  plunge  into  his  study,  or  rush  out  and 
dive  into  his  parish  work,  or  wander  off  for  a  walk  upon  the 
hills. 

Three  or  four  miles  down  the  river  was  a  cave,  —  a  sort  of 
Mammoth  Cave  on  a  smaller  scale.  It  was  full  of  chambers, 
and  passage-ways,  and  natural  wonders.  As,  then,  it  was 
always  of  interest  in  itself,  and  as  there  was  a  fine  open 
grassy  glade  in  front  of  its  mouth,  where  grand  old  trees  gave 
abundance  of  pleasant  shade,  and  through  whose  branches 
was  a  lovely  view  of  the  river,  it  was  a  favorite  resort  for 
picnic  and  pleasure  parties.  To  the  cave,  therefore,  the 
young  people  had  now  arranged  an  excursion ;  and  of  course 
they  invited  the  minister  to  accompany  them.  They  had 


TO   THE    CAVE.  43 

engaged  the  little  steamer,  the  Eagle  Wing,  to  carry  the 
party.  But  Mr.  Forrest  had  discovered  that  Miss  Margaret — 
as  near  familiarity  as  he  could  persuade  himself  to  approach 
in  addressing  her  —  was  extravagantly  fond  of  horseback 
riding ;  and,  as  this  was  one  of  his  California  accomplish 
ments,  he  determined  to  offer  her  the  pleasure  of  a  gallop. 
Thinking  she  might  shrink  from  going  with  him  alone,  he 
invited  one  of  her  sisters  and  a  gentleman  friend  to  make  up 
their  equestrian  party  of  four. 

They  started  an  hour  before  the  merry  steamer-load ;  and, 
taking  a  circuitous  and  unfamiliar  road,  they  determined  to 
enjoy  a  leisurely  'lope,  and,  coming  in  to  the  river  below  the 
cave,  be  on  hand  to  meet  the  party  on  the  boat  as  they  landed. 
It  was  a  wild,  merry  ride.  Mr.  Forrest  often  said  that  he 
knew  of  nothing  like  the  sense  of  thrilling,  exulting,  godlike 
power  that  one  experiences  mounted  on  a  nervous  but  well- 
trained  horse,  so  adapted  to  his  rider  that  they  become  one 
like  the  half-divine  centaurs  of  old.  The  only  thing  that 
ever  reminded  him  of  it  was  the  similar  sense  of  mastery  that 
he  sometimes  experienced  when  preaching  at  his  best,  with 
no  fence  of  a  desk  between  him  and  his  audience ;  and 
when  he  was  grasping  in  his  hands,  like  reins,  the  invisible 
threads  of  sympathy  that  ran  to  every  heart,  and  gave  him 
power  to  sway,  to  rouse,  to  soothe,  to  make  smile  or  weep, 
at  will,  —  the  exercise  of  a  power  that  only  the  orator  knows. 
So  on  they  galloped  through  shade  and  sun;  Mr.  Forrest 
and  Miss  Hartley  being  mounted  on  a  pair  of  splendid  grays. 
They  chatted  merrily  as  they  walked  their  horses  up  some 
rising  ground,  or  stopped  to  breathe  them  for  a  moment  in 


44 


BLUFFTON. 


the  shade.  It  was  a  pretty  picture  of  health  and  vigor  and 
beauty:  their  light  and  happy  laughter  ringing  out  on  the 
fresh  morning  air ;  their  young  blood  keeping  time  to  the 
rhythmic  motion,  mounting  to  the  red  cheek,  and  giving 
the  eye  an  added  lustre ;  the  while  they  sped  onward  through 
the  checkered  sunlight  beneath  the  trees,  plunged  through  a 
shady  thicket,  leaped  some  narrow  stream,  and  then  shot 
out  into  the  gleaming  sunshine  again ;  themselves  a  part  of 
the  old  world's  everlasting  youth.  The  Tennysonian  ride  of 
Queen  Guinevere  kept  dancing  through  his  brain ;  and,  could 
he  but  be  her  Launcelot,  he  felt  he  could  ride  the  world  for 
ever,  if  she  would  but  lead,  and  make  him  rich  in  payment 
of  her  smile.  They  were  surprised  at  every  turn  by  pictures 
of  beauty,  that,  but  for  the  more  thrilling  fascination  of  sim 
ple  motion,  they  would  have  liked  to  stop  and  enjoy.  But 
when  they  gained  the  highest  point  of  their  ride,  as  they 
turned  toward  the  river,  such  a  panorama  spread  around 
them  that  they  all,  as  if  by  common  consent,  reined  in  their 
horses.  For  thirty  miles  the  magnificent  river  wound,  gleam 
ing  and  sparkling,  in  full  view.  It  was  a  stream  of  silver, 
gemmed  with  islands  of  perfect  green.  Ten  miles  up  stream 
curled  the  smoke  of  a  steamer,  too  far  away  to  be  any  thing 
but  a  silent  part  of  the  picture.  Ten  miles  down  stream, 
climbing  up  on  to  and  crowning  the  top  of  a  bluff,  gleamed 
the  white  and  shone  the  red  of  a  city,  while  a  light  cloud 
of  smoke  hung  over  it  in  the  still  air.  Across  the  river,  the 
prairie,  farms,  farmhouses,  villages,  a  train  of  cars  shooting 
across  the  green,  and  a  low  range  of  hills  that  cut  off  the 
view.  Behind  them  a  wondrously  diversified  country,  of  hill 


TO   THE    CAVE.  45 

and  vale,  made  picturesque  by  strips  of  red  country  road  and 
the  varied  shade  of  green  or  brown  of  the  different  crops 
of  corn  or  grain  or  grass. 

"  Never  was  any  thing  fairer  than  this  seen  since  Moses 
stood  on  Pisgah  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Forrest. 

"I  don't  see  how  heaven  can  be  any  finer,"  said  Miss 
Hartley. 

They  were  too  full  of  the  wondrous  beauty  of  the  scene 
for  common  conversation.  As  they  sat  and  simply  gazed, 
Mr.  Forrest  glanced  at  his  watch,  and  said,  — 

"  It's  almost  time  for  the  boat :  we  must  hurry  on." 

They  spurred  their  now  rested  horses  in  a  merry  race,  and 
soon  stood  on  the  river  road  that  ran  along  close  by  the  bank. 
They  found  themselves  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below  the 
cave ;  and  the  Eagle  Wing  was  in  sight.  But  she  was 
getting  on  after  a  fashion  that  Mr.  Forrest  had  never  seen 
before.  He  was  too  keen  an  observer  to  pass  by  any 
important  thing  without  learning  its  use  :  so  he  had  already 
discovered  that  the  two  spars,  attached  to  either  side  of  the 
upright  pole  on  the  bow  of  a  river-boat,  were  used  for 
"  creeping  "  over  sand-bars. 

"  Hallo  !  "  called  out  Mr.  Snyder,  the  knight  of  Miss  Mar 
garet's  sister  Sue,  "  the  Eagle  Wing  doesn't  fly  very  well  to 
day,  does  she  ?  " 

And,  as  they  could  do  nothing  but  look  on,  they  trotted 
leisurely  along  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  situation. 

"  I'd  no  idea  the  river  was  so  shallow,"  said  Mr.  Forrest. 

"  It's  deep  enough,"  returned  Mr.  Snyder,  "  if  one  can 
only  keep  the  channel.  But  during  the  high  water,  and  when 


46  BLUFFTON. 

the  current  is  rapid,  the  bottom  shifts  so  that  it  is  hard  for 
even  the  best  pilots  to  keep  the  run  of  it.  Then,  as  the 
water  falls  rapidly,  no  one  knows  when  he  may  get  aground. 
So,  you  see,  they  always  go  prepared  for  a  '  creep.'  " 

"  See  her  lift,"  said  Miss  Margaret.  "  It  must  be  a  queer 
sensation  to  sail  on  stilts  in  that  style." 

The  little  steamer  was  doing  bravely.  The  two  long  spars, 
fastened  together  at  the  top  of  the  upright  pole,  were  thrust 
out  forward  and  on  either  side,  forming  a  sort  of  letter  A 
without  the  cross-stroke.  Then,  as  they  put  on  all  steam,  the 
spars  acted  as  a  lever  to  raise  the  bottom  from  the  sand ;  and 
she  sprang  forward  until  the  spars  pointed  toward  the  stern, 
and  she  was  resting  on  the  bar  again.  As  her  load  was 
light,  and  the  bar  was  not  a  very  extensive  one,  a  few  lifts 
like  this  took  her  over  into  free  water  again.  The  party  on 
the  boat  set  up  a  shout,  which  was  answered  from  the  shore ; 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  planks  were  out,  and  the  happy 
crowd  were  scattered  under  the  trees,  and  making  ready  to 
explore  the  cave. 

With  bits  of  tallow-candles  for  torches,  and  strips  of  news 
paper  for  candlesticks,  they  threaded  the  narrow  passage 
ways,  passed  through  lofty  chambers,  or  stood  on  the  edge  of 
abysses,  and  listened  to  the  drip  of  unseen  waters  that  tum 
bled  down  the  dark  ways  of  the  eternal  night  below.  Some 
of  the  chambers  they  illuminated  with  red  and  purple  and 
yellow  lights.  One  was  like  a  cathedral  with  fretted  roof, 
and  pillared  by  the  meeting  and  joining-together  of  stalac 
tite  and  stalagmite.  They  tried  to  fling  a  ray  down  into 
St.  Ronan's  Well,  a  circular  deep,  to  which  no  bottom  had 


TO   THE    CAVE.  47 

ever  been  discovered.  A  rock  flung  down  passed  into  utter 
silence,  and,  when  it  struck,  gave  up  no  sound. 

When  tired  of  the  cave,  they  had  games  and  walks  and 
talks,  and  then  the  lunch  spread  under  the  trees;  and  so 
the  day  flew  on.  Who  ever  knew  a  day  to  be  long  when 
measured  off  by  the  laughter  and  song  and  play  and  con 
versation  of  young  men  and  women,  with  a  grassy  carpet  be 
neath  their  feet,  and  a  bright  sun  and  a  blue  sky  over  their 
heads  ? 

At  last  the  party  had  re-embarked,  and  the  riders  were  re 
mounted.  Instead  of  returning  the  way  they  came,  they 
determined,  for  the  sake  of  variety,  to  go  home  by  the  river 
road ;  and  the  playful  project  entered  their  heads,  of  letting 
the  Eagle  Wing  get  thoroughly  under  way,  and  then  trying  a 
race  with  her  for  the  town.  So,  taking  position,  Mr.  Forrest 
waved  his  hat  in  air,  was  answered  by  fluttering  handker 
chiefs  from  the  steamer,  and  on  they  flew.  For  some  dis 
tance  they  kept  what  would  have  been  "neck  and  neck," 
supposing  the  steamer  had  had  a  neck ;  and  then  the  horses 
got  excited.  The  grays  being  the  faster  of  the  four,  Mr. 
Forrest  and  Miss  Hartley  soon  left  their  companions  out  of 
sight  round  a  curve  in  the  road.  The  wind  fairly  whistled 
by  them,  as  it  does  through  the  rigging  of  a  ship  at  sea. 
But,  so  long  as  the  horses  seemed  happy,  their  riders  cared 
not  how  fast  they  sped.  Mr.  Snyder  and  Sue  Hartley,  hav 
ing  given  up  the  chase  as  useless,  had  reined  in  their  horses, 
and  were  coming  on  by  an  easy  lope,  but  still  out  of  sight 
on  the  winding  road.  Mr.  Forrest  and  Miss  Margaret  still 
sped  on ;  when,  suddenly  turning  a  sharp  curve  in  the  road, 


48  BLUFFTON. 

her  horse  caught  the  quick  gleam  of  a  white  bowlder  that 
sprang  into  view  so  quickly,  through  the  half-hiding  trees, 
that  he  had  not  time  to  see  what  it  was.  He  reared  and 
plunged  for  a  moment ;  but  so  firmly  and  naturally  did  she 
ride,  that  she  seemed  in  no  danger  of  being  unseated.  But 
the  fright  had  maddened  him ;  and  now  he  plunged  forward 
so  like  the  wind  that  even  Mr.  Forrest  could  not  keep  up. 
She  tried  to  rein  him  in,  but  he  took  the  bit  in  his  teeth ; 
and  as  he  turned  another  curve,  and  shot  out  of  sight  under 
the  trees,  Mr.  Forrest  saw,  with  a  horror  that  almost  stopped 
the  beating  of  his  heart,  that  one  rein  was  broken,  and  she 
could  control  him  no  longer.  He  spurred  his  own  horse  to 
the  utmost,  and  rushed  on  in  pursuit.  What  next  he  saw 
almost  paralyzed  him.  The  horse  was  out  of  sight ;  and  the 
whole  universe  to  him  was  now  only  that  one  white,  still  face 
beside  the  road.  "  O  God  !  "  he  cried,  "  she  is  dead,  and  I 
have  killed  her ! "  His  head  whirled,  and  the  light  of 
heaven  seemed  to  go  out  in  awful  night,  as  he  not  dis 
mounted,  but  flung  himself  from  his  horse.  What  he  did  he 
hardly  knew,  till  he  found  himself  some  distance  away,  sit 
ting  on  the  grass  by  a  little  spring  that  trickled  out  of  the 
side  of  the  hill,  with  her  head  on  his  knee,  and  bathing  her 
face  with  the  cold  water.  An  hour  before,  he  would  have 
thought  it  presumption  to  dream  of  her  being  his  :  now  his 
heart  leaped  up  and  claimed  her,  and  rebelled  at  fate  for 
thus  perilling  his  title.  He  felt  that  she  was  his  own,  and 
that  some  horrible  power  was  snatching  her  away.  Was  she 
dead?  There  was  a  slight  bruise  on  her  temple.  She  did 
not  seem  to  breathe.  He  chafed  her  hands,  and  felt  for  her 


TO    THE   CAVE.  49 

pulse,  which  was  only  a  feeble  and  irregular  flutter.  He 
called  to  her,  "  Madge  !  Madge  !  "  in  passionate  familiarity, 
for  love  and  grief  made  formality  a  mockery :  "  would  God 
I  had  died  for  you,  or  with  you  !  " 

The  trees  on  the  bank  at  this  point  shut  out  the  steamer 
from  view ;  and  the  party  on  board  had  not  seen  the  acci 
dent.  He  tenderly  laid  her  head  upon  his  coat,  which  he 
stripped  off  for  a  pillow,  and  rushed  into  the  road  to  see  if 
her  sister  and  friend  were  in  sight.  They  were  evidently 
taking  the  ride  leisurely,  and  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  He 
rushed  back,  and  again  took  her  head  upon  his  knee.  He 
passionately  kissed  her  forehead,  and  called  to  her  again  to 
see  if  his  voice  would  wake  her. 

The  tears  fairly  started  for  joy,  as  she  now  moved  slightly, 
and  a  half-sigh  escaped  her.  Her  eyes  opened  just  a  little, 
and  then  closed  again.  Her  lips  moved  as  if  they  would 
speak ;  but  were  silent.  He  watched  her  breathlessly,  with  a 
joy  and  anxiety  that  did  not  seek  for  utterance.  At  last  a 
murmuring  came  from  her  lips,  that  out  of  inarticulate  noth 
ings  shaped  broken  fragments  of  speech,  — 

"  Mr.  For-rest !  Mark  !     Save  me  !  " 

"  Yes,  Madge  !  dear  Madge  !  I'd  die  to  save  you.  Can 
you  hear  me  ?  " 

But  she  was  still  again.  The  blood  now  began  to  mount 
to  her  cheeks;  and,  as  he  watched  her,  he  uttered  his 
thought  aloud :  — 

"  Oh,  what  a  lovely  face  !  " 

Just  then  she  roused  a  little,  and,  having  half-consciously 
caught  the  last  words,  said,  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way,  — 


JO  BLUFFTON. 

"  Who  spoke  of  love  ?  " 

And  then  she  blushed  deeply,  as  she  suddenly  became 
conscious  of  where  she  was,  and  what  she  had  said. 

Mark  saw  that  she  had  half  caught  his  secret  from  those 
dimly-divined  words ;  and  hardly  knew  whether  to  be  glad 
or  sorry  to  have  her  guess  the  truth  thus  early.  But  it  was 
now  no  time  for  any  thing  but  gladness  to  see  her  wake,  and 
hear  her  speak  again. 

As  she  roused,  and  recovered  from  her  faint,  the  old  awe 
with  which  he  regarded  her  came  back :  she  seemed  to  slip 
from  his  hands,  and  the  gulf  was  between  them  again. 

"  Thank  God,  Miss  Hartley,  it  is  no  worse  ! "  he  ex 
claimed. 

At  this  point,  her  sister  and  Mr.  Snyder  appeared.  A  few 
words  explained  all.  Astonished  that  no  bones  were  bro 
ken,  and  that  she  had  so  soon  recovered  from  the  fainting 
fit  into  which  fear  as  much  as  the  fall  had  thrown  her,  they 
found,  on  examination,  that  a  clump  of  bushes  had  broken 
the  force  of  her  fall,  and  still  contained  fragments  of  her 
dress.  Beside  these  bushes  Mr.  Forrest  had  found  her,  but 
he  was  too  anxious  at  the  time  to  notice  it.  A  carriage 
was  now  procured  from  a  neighboring  farmhouse ;  and,  while 
she  leaned  upon  her  sister,  Mr.  Forrest  drove  them  home. 
Mr.  Snyder,  riding  his  own  horse,  led  the  other  two,  and 
found  the  fourth  in  his  stall. 

When  arrived  at  Mr.  Hartley's  house,  Mr.  Forrest  was 
obliged  to  take  the  still  weak  Miss  Margaret  in  his  arms,  and 
half  carry,  half  assist  her  to  her  chamber.  He  then  hastened 
for  a  physician ;  and,  learning  that  probably  there  was  noth- 


TO   THE   CAVE.  51 

ing  more  serious  than  a  nervous  shock  that  would  confine 
her  to  her  room  and  lounge  for  a  few  days,  he  left,  with 
many  expressions  of  self-blame  for  her  fall,  and  of  wishes 
for  a  night  of  quiet  sleep. 


BLUFFTON. 


VI. 

THE  CONVALESCENCE. 

MR.  FORREST  slept  little  that  night ;  for  his  brain  ran 
on  like  a  music-box  wound  up,  with  the  case  fastened, 
and  of  which  he  had  lost  the  key.  The  tunes  it  played 
were  beyond  his  control.  It  wailed  or  danced,  sang  hope 
or  despair,  apparently  according  to  its  own  mood.  And, 
when  it  did  lull  enough  to  let  him  sleep,  it  appeared  to 
whirl  on  still  in  dreams.  He  rode  wild  horses,  and  was 
flung  down  bottomless  abysses.  The  face  of  Miss  Hartley 
was  by  his  side,  he  held  her  hand,  and  was  about  to  tell  her 
his  love,  when  suddenly  the  figure  would  fade  away,  and  he 
would  find  himself  alone  in  some  wild  place,  listening  to 
voices  of  mocking  laughter.  Again,  she  was  dead,  and  he, 
as  minister,  was  tortured  with  the  thought  that  he  must 
attend  her  funeral,  while  no  one  knew  that  it  was  his  right 
to  sit  broken-hearted  as  chief  mourner.  Or  it  was  a  wed 
ding  scene  in  church,  where  she  was  bride  and  he  the  happy 
groom ;  and  then  suddenly  it  was  some  one  else  that  held 
her  hand,  and  he  was  the  minister,  in  hopeless  agony, 
reading  the  marriage-service  that  was  separating  her  from 
him  forever. 


THE   CONVALESCENCE.  53 

But  all  mornings  break  at  last,  and  so  did  this.  As  early 
as  he  thought  propriety  permitted,  he  went  over  to  call  upon 
her.  He  was  shown  up  to  her  room,  and  found  her  in 
morning  wrapper,  upon  her  lounge,  half  sunk  in  easy  pillows. 
She  was  suffering  no  pain,  and  was  only  weak  and  pale. 
But  her  sickness  so  became  her,  that  he  thought  she  never 
looked  so  beautiful.  Her  dark  masses  of  loosened  hair  so 
framed  the  round,  fair  face  and  the  lustrous  eyes,  and  mouth 
that  was  a  Cupid's  bow,  that  he  wished  he  were  a  painter, 
that  he  might  keep  the  picture  forever. 

"  Good-morning,  Miss  Margaret,"  said  he.  "  I  hope  the 
results  of  my  yesterday's  mischief  are  not  serious." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  she  replied.  "  I  feel  quite  well,  only  they  will 
make  me  lie  still." 

"Did  you  sleep?" 

"Very  well  indeed.  I  always  do.  A  good  conscience, 
you  know,"  she  added  with  a  playful  smile. 

"  No  trouble  with  your  conscience  in  this  instance  :  it  is 
my  conscience  that  is  now  at  fault.  The  whipping  furies 
have  lashed  me  severely  for  putting  you  in  such  peril." 

"Why,  it  was  no  fault  of  yours.  I  had  a  glorious  ride, 
and  I'd  try  it  again  :  only  I  think  I  would  see  if  the  bridle 
was  strong." 

"  You're  a  brave  girl,"  said  he ;  "  and  I  am  happier  than  I 
can  tell  you,  to  find  you  so  well,  and  to  learn  that  you  do 
not  blame  me.  I  shall  blame  myself,  however,  just  the 
same.  And  now,  to  prove  that  you  forgive  me,  you  must 
grant  me  permission  to  help  assist  in  your  cure." 

"  That,  perhaps,  will  depend  upon  your  medicine." 


54 


BLUFFTON. 


"Well,  I  know  you  are  fond  of  reading,  and  yet  you 
mustn't  read  to-day.  The  hours  will  be  long,  if  you  do 
nothing.  May  I  read  to  you  a  while  ?  " 

"  But  isn't  your  parish  work  taking  all  your  time  ?  " 

"Aren't  you  a  part  of  my  parish?  And  isn't  my  first 
duty  to  the  sick?"  said  he,  with  a  mock  solemnity. 

"Yes;  but  I've  heard  you  say  you  didn't  like  parish 
work,"  said  she  archly. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  he  laughing,  "  since  you  have  such  a 
good  memory,  I'll  spend  the  day  in  reading  to  you  'from 
a  sense  of  duty,'  or  for  any  other  mentionable  motive  what 
soever,  only  so  you  will  let  me  have  my  way." 

So  it  was  arranged  that  he  was  to  read.  As  he  rose  to  go 
to  his  study  for  some  books,  she  said,  — 

"  If  you  are  to  be  my  servant  to-day,  will  you  promise  to 
obey  orders?" 

"  Any  thing  in  the  wide  world,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  then,  read  what  else  you  will,  but  I  command  you 
to  bring  along  some  of  your  own  verses ;  for  I've  heard  that 
you  write." 

"  I  did  not  think  you  would  use  your  new-found  power  in 
tyranny  like  this  so  soon.  Indeed,  I  never  confessed  to  being 
a  poet." 

"But  people  don't  always  confess  their  sins  in  public. 
I  know  you  write  ;  and,  if  you  wish  my  forgiveness  for  it,  you 
must  read  me  some  of  your  verses." 

"  If  I  must,  I  must :  I've  a  few  little  snatches.  And,  if 
you  make  the  conditions  of  my  sitting  with  you  so  hard,  of 
course  I  must  comply." 


THE    CONVALESCENCE.  55 

"  I  am  inexorable,"  she  said  :   "  so  you  know  your  fate." 
He  said  to  himself,  as  he  looked  over  his  portfolio,  — 
"  If  I  must  read  my  own  lines,  I'll  take  my  revenge  by 
making  her  hear  the  echoes  of  my  own  heart,  and  see  if  I 
can  thus  make  out  her  own.     I'll  invent  a  Hamlet  plot,  and 
see  if  her  face  confesses  any  care  for  me." 

He  soon  returned.  He  read  first  from  Tennyson's  "  Prin 
cess,"  and  they  talked  over  some  of  its  many  problems. 
Then  they  went  over  some  of  the  sweeter  "  Idyls  of  the  King," 
and  discussed  the  virtues  of  knighthood  and  the  old  ideals 
of  womankind.  At  last  she  said,"  Now  let  me  hear  your  own." 
" '  Oh,  what  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymen ! '"  said 
he,  laughing.  "  From  Tennyson  to  Forrest,  —  the  author 
only  of  several  unpublished  manuscripts.  But  I  may  as  well 
be  slaughtered  now  as  to  anticipate  it  longer." 

He  picked  up  some  loose  papers,  and  continued,  — 
"The   first   is   a  foolish   little   song.     You  know  I  only 
scratch  off  rhymes  for  recreation,  and  because  my  thoughts 
will  sometimes  jingle.     I  have  entitled  it 

THE  QUESTION. 

'  Oh  I  tell  me  how  to  woo  and  win,' 
The  shepherd  sang.     The  echoes  flew 

Adown  the  vale,  now  loud,  now  thin, 
And  answered  only,  '  Win  and  woo ! ' 

'  But  I  am  not  a  shepherd  lad  : 

So  tell  me,  echo  sweet,'  said  I, 
'  How  shall  my  heart's  long  wish  be  had  ? ' 

'  Had  —  wish  you  had,'  was  its  reply. 


56  BLUFFTON. 

*  No  common  word  can  make  her  mine ; 

No  common  love  do  I  adore : 
Toward  me  does  her  heart  incline  ? ' 

But  echo  would  reply  no  more. 

"No,  Miss  Margaret,  "  said  he  as  soon  as  he  finished  :  "  I 
shall  not  wait,  and  make  you  struggle  between  courtesy  and 
veracity ;  but,  without  letting  you  rest,  you  must  listen  again. 
You've  brought  it  on  yourself,  you  know. 

WILL  LOVE  DESCEND  ? 

A  heaven-born  goddess  is  sweet  Love  : 

Will  she  descend  to  common  cares  ? 

And  breathe  our  dusty,  earthly  airs 
In  narrow  paths,  nor  pine  to  rove  ? 

She'll  want  soft  carpets  for  her  feet ; 
She'll  want  rich  jewels  in  her  hair, 
From  out  her  windows  landscapes  rare, 

And  in  must  float  all  perfumes  sweet. 

She'd  weary  of  a  petty  round 

Of  household  tasks  that  every  day 

Fritter  and  fret  the  life  away,  — 
Though  husband  worshipped,  children  crowned. 

Yes,  heart  that  thought  the  heavens  to  scale, 
And  pluck  a  star  from  her  bright  zone, 
Stars  are  too  high  to  call  thine  own : 

Go,  seek  a  rushlight  in  the  vale." 

"  Well,  I  can't  let  you  go  on  any  farther  until  I  protest 
against  that,"  said  she.  "It  isn't  a  heaven-born  goddess 


THE   CONVALESCENCE.  57 

that  looks  upon  life  in  that  way.  True  love  is  always  hum 
ble.  I  know  nothing  of  men's  hearts ;  but  it  seems  to  me, 
that,  if  a  woman  should  love  a  man,  she  would  always  look  up 
to  him,  and  be  exalted  by  her  love,  whatever  his  station 
might  be.  Stars  that  will  not  shine  in  vales  are  no  true  stars. 
And  any  man  would  be  degraded  who  should  stoop  to  what 
he  would  be  compelled  to  think  of  as  beneath  him." 

"  You  think  a  true  woman,  then,  would  marry  a  man  with 
out  regard  to  his  station? " 

"  Of  course  I  think  so." 

"  But  isn't  Tennyson's  line  too  true  ?  — 

'  Every  door  is  barred  with  gold,  and  opens  but  to  golden  keys.' " 

"  I  don't  think  it  is,  except  with  some  who  can  appreciate 
nothing  else.  It  isn't  strange  that  a  woman  should  like  fine 
houses,  horses,  and  money,  any  more  than  that  a  man  should, 
I  suppose." 

"  Certainly  not.  But  what  if  a  man,  recognizing  that,  should 
hesitate  to  ask  a  woman's  love  because  he  lacks  them  ?  " 

"Then  he  deserves  to  go  without  her  love.  If  he  has 
brains,  or  character,  why  not  offer  them?  A  true  woman 
must  despise  a  man  who  thinks  she  is  in  the  market  to  be 
sold  to  the  highest  bidder.  I  know  some  women  do  sell 
themselves  for  homes ;  but  so  do  men  too,  for  that  matter, 
when  they  hunt  for  rich  wives.  But  what  are  those  other 
verses  ?  " 

Mark  felt  that  he  had  learned  one  thing,  at  least ;  and  his 
minister's  lot  did  not  seem  so  poor  as  when  he  feared  she 
might  have  higher  worldly  aspirations.  So  he  read  on,  — 


58  BLUFFTON. 

What  shall  one  do  with  a  hopeless  love  ? 

If  he  bury  it  in  his  heart, 
Too  strong  for  its  prison  it  will  prove, 

And  burst  its  walls  apart. 

If  he  bury  it  in  the  sea,  'twill  arise 

When  the  evening  love-star  gleams, 
And,  mocking  him  with  its  deathless  eyes, 

Will  haunt  him  in  his  dreams. 

If  he  bury  himself  in  his  books,  and  seek 

To  hide  him  from  its  sight, 
'Twill  laugh  at  his  Hebrew  and  his  Greek, 

And  mock  him  as  in  spite. 

If  he  do  not  seek  its  face  to  flee, 

And  yet  no  hope  is  given, 
'Twill  make  of  life  a  misery, 

And  make  a  hell  of  heaven. 

"We  won't  say  any  thing  about  that,"  said  he  :  "it  helps 
pass  the  time.     But  here  is  the  last.     I  have  named  it,  — 

THE  CRIME  AGAINST  LOVE. 

Love  was  a  judge,  and  he  held  a  court 

With  the  culprit  in  the  box. 
He  had  flung  him  into  his  jail,  —  Despair,— 

Close  under  double  locks. 

The  crier  cried,  and  the  court  began. 

The  attorney  rose  and  said,  — 
'  The  prisoner  at  the  bar,  my  lord, 

We  charge,  as  shall  be  read.' 


THE   CONVALESCENCE.  59 

And  he  read  a  long  indictment  through, 

That  charged  contempt  of  love. 
'  He  has  spoken  slightingly  of  you, 

As  I'll  proceed  to  prove. 

'  He  has  said,  "  I'll  travel  other  lands ; 

I'll  wed  my  books  and  lore : 
Divine  philosophy  alone 

Shall  my  fond  heart  adore. 

' "  Love  is  the  passion  of  weak  minds : 

I  will  not  be  its  slave. 
Love  is  a  blindness  of  the  eyes, 

And  it  is  reason's  grave." ' 

The  indictment  through,  the  attorney  said,— 

'  My  lord,  —  whom  heaven  defend  1  — 
If  words  like  these  unpunished  go, 

Your  kingdom's  at  an  end.' 

'  Speak,  prisoner ! '  then  the  stern  judge  cried^ 

'  If  you  have  aught  to  say.' 
'  I  did  not  know  you,  mighty  Love : 

I  therefore  pardon  pray,  — 

4  If  ignorance  may  be  excuse.' 

'  Then  hear  me,'  Love  replied. 
'Go  seek  the  loveliest  one  you  know, 

And  by  her  word  abide. 

'  If  she  forgives  you,  then  will  I : 

You  have  six  months'  release.' 
And  now  he  wanders  up  and  down, 

And  nowhere  findeth  peace. 


6O  BLUFFTON. 

He's  seen  the  loveliest ;  but  in  vain  I 

He  cannot  bring  his  heart 
To  risk  the  trial,  lest  he  die 

If  she  should  say,  'Depart !  ' " 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Margaret,  "  that  is  very  prettily  told. 
If  you  can  write  like  that,  you'll  give  the  world  a  volume  of 
verse  some  day.  But  I  don't  think  the  culprit  is  specially 
brave;  do  you?" 

Mark  was  about  to  reply ;  and  perhaps  might  have  owned 
to  being  the  culprit  himself,  had  not  the  reading  been 
suddenly  cut  short  by  the  calling  of  some  friends  who  had 
been  on  the  excursion  the  preceding  day.  Having  learned 
of  the  accident,  they  had  come  to  see  how  seriously  she  was 
hurt. 

She  thanked  him  heartily  for  his  kindness,  and  asked  him 
to  read  again ;  then,  taking  his  papers  and  books,  he  hur 
riedly  withdrew. 


OTHER  STRANDS  IN  THE  THREAD. 


VII. 

OTHER  STRANDS  IN  THE  THREAD. 

AND  now  we  must  take  note  of  other  strands  that  were 
being  woven  into  the  thread  of  Mr.  Forrest's  destiny. 
Life  is  not  all  love ;  and  those  things  that  seem  farthest 
removed  from  its  tender  pleasure  and  its  tender  pain  are  so 
intimately  wound  up  with  it  in  human  experience,  that  we 
cannot  understand  either  strand  when  taken  by  itself.  As 
one  could  not  comprehend  the  turbid  tide  of  the  Mississippi, 
below  its  junction  with  the  Missouri,  unless  he  knew  that  two 
different  rivers  had  become  one,  so  the  turbid,  mingling, 
dividing,  darkening,  brightening  current  of  Mr.  Forrest's 
onward  career  can  only  be  understood  as  we  take  note  how 
the  one  stream  of  his  life  is  henceforth  compounded  of  love 
not  only,  but  also  of  hope  and  fear,  of  inclination  and  duty, 
of  old  tradition  and  new  thought, —  all  in  relentless  struggle. 
The  sphinx's  riddle  had  been  given  him  to  answer ;  and  he 
felt  that  he  must  answer  it,  to  the  satisfaction  at  least  of  his 
own  soul,  or  conscience,  manhood,  and  self-respect  would 
die.  And,  even  if  he  could  have  won  Miss  Hartley  with 
a  lie  in  his  hand,  he  would  have  felt  he  was  offering  her  a 
hollow,  rotten-hearted  sham,  and  not  the  oak-hearted  man 
hood  that  she  deserved. 


62  BLUFFTON. 

So  all  the  time  since  he  had  been  in  Bluffton,  he  had 
been  fighting  a  battle,  that,  to  his  thought,  meant  life  or 
death.  Several  times  he  had  been  on  the  point  of  offering 
Miss  Hartley  his  hand ;  and  then  had  shrunk  back,  deterred 
by  the  thought  that  he  had  no  right  to  do  it  until  she  fully 
knew  all  that  was  in  his  head  as  well  as  what  was  in  his  heart. 

To  find  what  this  was  that  was  in  his  head,  —  the  elements 
of  his  great  conflict, —  we  must  go  back,  and  take  a  brief 
glance  at  the  more  immediate  past. 

It  has  been  already  intimated,  that,  even  in  the  theological 
seminary,  Mr.  Forrest  admitted  into  his  thinking  a  principle 
fatal  to  his  "  soundness."  He  had  asserted  the  ultimate 
principle  of  Protestantism,  "  the  right  of  private  "  individual 
"judgment;"  and  this,  not  only  in  interpreting  the  stand 
ards  of  the  faith,  but  even  as  to  the  solidity  of  the  founda 
tions  on  which  rested  the  faith  itself.  It  is  easy  enough  for 
an  unprejudiced  outsider  to  see  that  the  Protestant  principle, 
"  the  right  of  private  judgment,"  leads  logically  to  ration 
alism.  For  he  who  assumes  to  question  the  basis  of  author 
ity,  in  that  very  act  becomes  a  rationalist ;  that  is,  asserts  the 
supreme  right  of  reason  to  pass  upon  these  ultimate  prob 
lems  ;  and  that  is  what  rationalism  means.  But,  like  many 
a  young  man  who  launches  his  craft  on  this  Protestant  sea, 
and  feels  in  his  sails  the  fresh  and  inspiring  impulse  of  this 
Protestant  free  air,  he  had  little  thought  out  over  what  wide 
and  pathless  oceans,  and  under  what  threatening  skies,  he 
would  drift  before  he  rested  again  in  any  quiet  harbor. 

In  his  California  life,  he  had  found  himself  in  a  free  and 
bracing  air.  Men  there  cared  more  for  practical  religion 


OTHER  STRANDS  IN  THE  THREAD.        63 

than  for  theoretical  details  of  thought.  And  though  he  made 
himself,  so  far  as  he  could,  familiar  with  the  best  modern 
thought  on  scientific  and  critical  subjects,  he  was  still  so  busy 
in  practical  affairs,  that  he  did  not  often  stop  to  think  whether 
there  was  place  in  his  old  theology  for  his  new  ideas.  The 
gospel  of  the  Christian  life  was  what  he  cared  for ;  and  if 
now  and  then  the  critical  question  came  up  as  to  whether 
the  system  of  his  old  faith  could  stand  the  strain  of  his  newer 
knowledge,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  easily  satisfied  with  the 
never-failing  new  exegesis  that  never  hesitated  in  its  attempt 
to  reconcile  the  most  seemingly  hostile  opposites.  So  he 
entered  on  his  work  in  Bluffton,  supposing  himself  orthodox, 
so  far  as  he  had  given  it  any  attention. 

He  had  been  there  but  a  little  while,  however,  before  the 
subject  loomed  up  on  his  mental  horizon  as  a  cloud  that  had 
lightning  in  it,  and  threatened  storm.  Several  causes  con 
duced  to  this ;  and  now  for  a  little  it  must  be  our  business 
to  trace  them. 

On  coming  to  Bluffton,  he  had  come  into  sharp,  practical 
contact  with  the  "  five  points  of  Calvinism  "  embodied  in 
the  unsympathetic,  unyielding  angularities  of  real  people. 
The  shock  of  this  contact  waked  him  up  to  the  conscious 
ness  that  that  was  not  the  kind  of  religion  he  believed  in. 
A  man  may  go  on  for  years  supposing  himself  to  be  holding 
faithfully  to  a  system  of  thought  that  he  has  inherited  and 
learned  to  reverence,  while  all  the  time  the  play  of  study 
and  experience  about  it  has  totally  changed  its  structure, 
and  he  wakes  up  to  find  that  the  old  has  disappeared.  Just 
as  an  iceberg  starts  out,  blue  and  hard  and  angular,  from  its 


64  BLUFFTON. 

northern  birthplace  among  the  glaciers:  it  floats  majesti 
cally  and  threateningly  on,  appearing  like  its  original  self, 
while  all  the  time  the  warmer  airs  have  played  around  it,  the 
warmer  seas  have  rippled  against  its  sides,  and  it  has  become 
honeycombed  through  and  through.  Now  let  it  strike  some 
rock  of  reality,  or  encounter  some  ocean  storm,  and,  like  a 
mirage,  it  is  gone  :  the  seas  have  swallowed  it  forever. 

So  Mr.  Forrest  was  rudely  roused  to  the  thought  that  the 
gospel  he  held  and  preached  was  not  what  was  popularly 
held  as  orthodox.  He  did  not  welcome  the  thought,  nor 
yield  it  an  easy  victory.  All  the  drift  of  inheritance  and 
tradition  was  in  the  old  channel.  His  childhood's  home 
was  an  orthodox  home.  The  sacred  memories  of  father,  of 
mother,  of  the  old  fireside  circle,  of  household  prayer  and 
song,  of  Sunday  bells  still  chiming  in  memory  over  the  old 
fields,  all  seemed  bitterly  to  reproach  the  new  thoughts  that 
appeared  to  be  traitor  to  the  old.  Loved  ones  had  died 
looking  forward  to  the  orthodox  heaven,  and  pleading  with 
him  to  meet  them  there,  Here  were  the  associations  and  the 
friends  of  his  life.  Along  this  path  lay  the  apparent  way  to 
the  attainment  of  all  his  earthly  ambitions.  Dark  shadows 
also  from  the  future  seemed  to  threaten  him.  He  started 
appalled  sometimes  at  the  thought,  that,  after  all,  these  mis 
givings  of  his  reason  might  be  only  the  darkened  wanderings 
of  a  fallen  nature.  The  angel  of  darkness,  robed  as  an 
angel  of  light,  might  be  thus  playing  with  and  tempting  his 
soul.  He  would  say,  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan  !  " 

And  then,  on  the  other  hand,  he  would  reason,  that,  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world,  all  who,  like  Abraham,  like 


OTHER   STRANDS   IN    THE   THREAD.  65 

Jesus  himself,  like  Paul,  like  Luther,  had  left  a  past  dear  to 
sentiment  and  rich  in  precious  memories,  must  have  gone 
through  substantially  the  same  struggle  of  foreboding,  of 
doubt,  of  misgiving.  And,  the  more  deeply  he  thought,  the 
more  he  became  convinced  that  this  new  light  was  not  a  will- 
o'-the  wisp,  leading  him  astray,  but  really  the  faint  streaks 
of  a  new  morning. 

But  now  he  would  grow  heart-sick  at  the  thought,  "  Miss 
Margaret  is  thoroughly,  fixedly  orthodox  in  all  her  training 
and  ways.  The  new  light  —  if  it  be  from  heaven — will 
still  lead  me  away  from  her."  And  this  was  to  him  bitterer 
agony  than  all  the  rest.  He  had  hours  when  he  felt  like 
Adam  in  "Paradise  Lost,"  when  he  found  that  Eve  had 
eaten  the  apple.  The  outer  wilderness  with  her  would  be 
dearer  than  paradise  alone ;  and  he  hardly  knew  if  he 
would  enter  the  open  gate  of  heaven  if  it  meant  letting  go 
her  hand. 

Another  thing  turned  his  thought  into  the  same  channel. 
He  was  talking  with  Judge  Hartley  one  day,  concerning  the 
practical  effects  of  religion  on  the  life,  when  he  ventured  to 
remark,  — 

"  There's  one  thing,  judge,  that  troubles  me  immensely  in 
my  preaching.  There  are  many  people  in  the  church  not 
half  so  good  as  many  that  are  out  of  it." 

"  So  far  as  man  can  see,  perhaps  it  may  be  so,"  cautiously 
answered  the  judge. 

"  And  it  seems  almost  hypocrisy  in  me  to  preach  to  those 
outside  as  sinners,  and  exhort  them  to  repentance,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  while  the  lightning  ought  to  strike  inside  if  any 
where." 


<56  BLUFFTON. 

"  But,  Mr.  Forrest,  these  outside  fair  livers  are  doubtless 
trusting  to  their  own  righteousness,  which  is  a  broken  reed 
There  is  no  evidence  that  they  have  the  grace  of  God  in 
their  hearts." 

"  If  these  others  had  as  much  of  the  grace  of  God  in 
their  hearts  as  they  pretend,  wouldn't  they  have  a  little  better 
character  among  men  ?  What's  the  evidence  of  grace  that 
doesn't  show  itself  in  works?" 

"When  one  gets  to  talking  too  much  of  works,  he  is  on 
dangerous  ground,"  said  the  judge.  "The  curse  of  the  law 
is  on  him  who  trusts  in  works." 

"  But  isn't  it  a  part  of  Christianity  to  have  works?  " 

"Yes,  morals  are  desirable,  even  necessary,  in  a  true 
Christian.  But  they  are  worth  nothing  to  a  man  who  is  not 
converted.  They  may  even  be  a  snare,  a  soul-destroying 
snare.  If  a  man  trusts  in  them,  he  is  gone.  Of  course  a 
man  had  better  be  sober  than  to  be  a  drunkard ;  he  had 
better  be  honest,  and  pay  his  debts,  than  to  be  a  swindler ; 
he  had  better  be  kind  than  cruel  in  his  family.  But,  after 
all,  Mr.  Forrest,  morals  don't  touch  the  question  of  salvation. 
The  vilest  sinner  that  trusts  to  the  atoning  blood  is  safer 
than  the  best  man  that  ever  lived,  who  comes  into  the  pres 
ence  of  God  in  his  own  righteousness." 

"Why,  Judge  Hartley,"  said  Mr.  Forrest,  "that  seems  to 
me  like  putting  a  premium  on  immorality." 

"  Mr.  Forrest,"  returned  the  judge,  "  however  it  seems  to 
the  carnal  reason,  it  is  the  teaching  of  divine  revelation; 
and  I  am  astonished  that  a  minister  of  the  gospel  should  use 
such  language." 


OTHER    STRANDS    IN    THE    THRBAD.  6/ 

"  Well,"  he  replied,  "  I  may  be  all  wrong :  but  upright 
living  is  better  for  this  world  than  a  religion  that  is  consistent 
with  dishonesty  and  uncharitableness ;  and,  since  the  same 
God  rules  in  the  next  world  who  governs  this,  it  seems 
strange  that  the  same  principle  shouldn't  apply  over  there." 

Mr.  Forrest  had  been  led  on  by  his  own  thought,  as  he 
spoke,  to  the  taking  of  a  more  advanced  ground  than  he  had 
foreseen  when  he  began ;  and  he  found  he  had  shocked 
the  judge  beyond  measure.  As  they  separated,  the  judge 
remarked,  — 

"Mr.  Forrest,  your  first  sermon  troubled  me  just  a  little; 
not  what  you  said,  but  what  you  didn't  say.  I  feared  you 
were  not  quite  sound  on  some  important  doctrines.  But 
you've  been  so  manly  and  successful,  that  I'd  been  hoping 
the  other  side  would  be  soon  brought  out  with  no  uncertain 
sound.  But  you  mustn't  preach  such  thoughts  as  you've 
spoken  to-day.  You  would  make  the  whole  gospel  of  no 
effect.  What's  the  need  of  the  cross,  if  such  things  are 
true?" 

And  the  judge  walked  sadly  away. 

After  this  Mr.  Forrest  noticed  that  he  watched  him  more 
narrowly  as  he  preached,  and  that  he  was  a  little  less  cordial 
as  they  met.  He  found  also,  little  by  little,  that  he  had  let 
fall  a  word  here  and  there,  and  that  the  more  strictly  doctrinal 
ones  in  the  church  were  slightly  changed  in  their  manner 
toward  him.  He  was  still  made  formally  welcome  at  his 
house  ;  though  now  and  then  the  judge  made  him  remember 
their  conversation,  by  advising  him  to  a  prayerful,  humble 
study  of  the  divine  mystery  of  salvation  by  faith. 


68  BLUFFTON. 

And  one  thing  more  was  at  this  time  moulding  his  pres 
ent,  and  so  shaping  the  future.  When  first  roused  to  face 
the  fact,  that,  for  better  or  worse,  his  opinions  were  largely 
changed,  he  did  not  follow  the  denominationally  safe  method 
of  rushing  back  out  of  the  glare  —  whether  of  hell  or  heaven 
he  knew  not  —  that  was  blinding  him,  into  the  quiet  shadows 
of  the  old  traditions.  Many  is  the  man,  in  his  case,  who  has 
refused  to  read  what  would  "  lead  him  astray."  He  has  kept 
to  denominational  papers  and  reviews  and  books,  and  re 
fused,  by  sheer  force  of  will,  to  harbor  unwelcome  and  un 
settling  thoughts.  This  seemed  to  Mr.  Forrest  the  course 
of  a  sneak  and  a  coward,  and  as  such  he  despised  it.  But 
it  also  appeared  to  him  downright  dishonesty  of  thought. 
"We  expect  heathen  and  sceptics,"  he  would  say,  "to  drop 
all  prejudice,  and  at  least  examine  our  claims.  Then  I'll  at 
least  be  as  brave.  If  I  can't  hold  my  religion  in  daylight,  I'll 
fling  it  to  the  bats."  So  he  began  a  course  of  systematic 
reading  and  study  as  to  the  foundations  of  his  belief.  He 
soon  found  that  it  was  whispered  about  the  parish,  that  he 
"  actually  had  scientific  and  Unitarian  books  in  his  library ;  " 
and  aunt  Sally  Rawson  remarked  at  the  sewing-circle,  — 

"  What  such  things'll  lead  to,  the  Lord  only  knows." 

Still  he  kept  on  studying  and  reading.  He  would  have  a 
"reason  for  the  faith  that  was  in  him." 

And  he  not  only  read  and  studied,  but  he  went  over  with 
his  friend  Tom  all  the  great  questions  of  the  age  ;  and  they 
tried  to  look  at  them  before  and  behind. 

As  already  intimated,  he  and  his  friend  Tom  Winthrop  had 
been  separated  since  they  left  college  ;  and,  while  they  had 


OTHER    STRANDS    IN    THE    THREAD.  69 

kept  up  occasional  friendly  interchanges,  neither  of  them 
had  taken  the  trouble  to  keep  acquainted  with  the  drift  of 
the  other's  thinking.  Mark  had  known  Tom  —  they  were 
still  Mark  and  Tom  to  each  other — as  a  somewhat  fearless 
and  independent  thinker,  even  in  college ;  and  as  one  in 
clined  always  to  probe  things  to  the  bottom,  to  see  what  they 
were  made  of.  He  was  less  emotional  and  enthusiastic  than 
Mark ;  and  at  times  Mark  was  inclined  to  charge  him  with 
being  hard,  and  even  inclined  to  a  slight  shade  of  cynicism, 
in  his  conclusions.  But  still  he  was  loving  and  generous ; 
and  only  anxious  to  know  that  either  a  thought  or  a  man 
was  sound  to  the  core,  —  no  sham,  —  and  he  would  stand 
by  them  in  good  report  or  ill.  He  had  a  keen  logical  mind, 
and — what  is  very  rare  in  this  world —  a  keen  insight  as  to 
the  value  of  proof.  For  it  is  a  strange  fact  that  those  men 
—  even  educated  men  —  are  few  who  can  weigh  evidence 
carefully,  and  so  tell  when  a  certain  proposition  is  proved  to 
be  true,  and  when  it  is  not.  Most  men's  minds  are  like  ill- 
constructed  scales :  they  turn  without  much  regard  to  the 
weights. 

With  a  mind  like  this,  and  with  a  well-prepared  basis  of 
scholarship,  Mark  found  that  his  friend  had  found  time,  dur 
ing  the  years  of  their  separation,  to  follow  out  his  old  lines 
of  study.  Though  busy  as  a  man  of  business,  he  had  still 
pursued  his  private  investigations.  He  had  even  written  an 
occasional  article  of  local  scientific  importance,  or  had  con 
tributed  to  some  theological  discussion  in  the  reviews.  Mark 
found  him  well  "  up  "  in  all  the  great  questions  of  the  day ; 
and  that  he  not  only  had  very  positive  opinions  of  his  own, 


7O  BLUFFTON. 

but  was  quite  prepared  to  do  battle  in  their  behalf.  He  was 
an  out-and-out  rationalist  in  his  opinions  concerning  religion, 
though  by  no  means  bitter  toward  the  training  of  his  child 
hood.  He  had  the  tolerance  of  a  wise  believer  in  evolution 
toward  the  past ;  and  would  no  more  think  of  quarrelling 
with  it  than  of  whipping  a  boy  for  not  being  a  man,  or  find 
ing  fault  with  the  twilight  because  it  wasn't  noon.  But,  as 
he  sometimes  said,  he  had  very  little  respect  for  a  man  who 
would  keep  his  eyes  shut  tight  at  noon,  and  take  his  own 
stupidity  for  twilight.  He  felt  like  shaking  such  a  man 
rather  roughly,  and  telling  him  to  open  his  eyes. 

All  these  points,  as  to  the  mental  condition  of  his  friend, 
Mark  gradually  discovered  as  the  months  of  his  life  in  Bluff- 
ton  had  passed.  They  had  renewed  their  old  intimacy. 
Mark  frequently  took  Monday  for  his  rest-day,  and  would 
run  up  to  Maple  City,  and  pass  it  with  Tom.  And,  when 
he  could  get  leisure,  Tom  would  come  down  and  spend  half 
a  day  with  him.  They  would  walk  and  talk  together  by  the 
hour. 

Mr.  Forrest's  association  with  his  friend  was  a  new  point 
that  gave  the  "  straiter  sect "  in  the  church  much  trouble. 
Mr.  Winthrop  was  a  gentleman  well  known  in  Bluffton  as  a 
sharp,  clear,  and  by  no  means  orthodox  thinker.  Particu 
larly  was  he  obnoxious  to  Mr.  Richard  Smiley. 

This  Mr.  Smiley,  to  whom  we  have  already  seen  Deacon 
Putney  so  obsequious,  was  what  Uncle  Zeke  called  "the 
Great  Mogul  of  the  town."  He  employed  the  most  men, 
and  did  the  largest  business.  Though  not  superintendent, 
he  had  much  to  do  with  the  Sunday  school.  Having  an 


OTHER  STRANDS  IN  THE  THREAD.        /I 

oily  tongue,  and  a  good  memory  for  anecdote,  he  capti 
vated  the  children.  In  a  fifteen-minutes  talk  he  would 
have  half  of  them  in  tears  over  the  "  dime-novel "  style  of 
piety  which  he  cultivated.  He  gave  lavishly  to  the  church 
and  public  benevolent  objects ;  and  the  church  bowed  down 
at  his  feet.  As  being  able  to  bring  the  most  tears,  he  was 
the  favorite  speaker  in  prayer-meeting.  He  was  the  pet  of 
all  the  old  women  of  the  parish,  because  he  would  call,  and 
kneel  down  and  pray  and  cry  with  them  over  "  the  state  of 
Zion."  He  had  been  a  sore  puzzle  to  the  new  minister;  for, 
while  stoutest  in  his  defence  of  traditional  orthodoxy,  he 
bore  a  most  doubtful  repute,  as  to  his  business-character, 
among  outside  business-men.  Even  Deacon  Putney  one 
day  took  Mr.  Forrest  aside,  as  they  met  on  the  sidewalk, 
and  said,  — 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is  :  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  Mr. 
Smiley.  When  you  talk  about  his  being  a  Christian,  to  the 
best  business-men  down  town,  they  think  it's  a  good  joke ; 
and  I've  known  of  some  things  myself  that  weren't  straight. 
And  yet,  when  he  talks  to  me,  blamed  if  he  don't  make  me 
believe  he's  a  persecuted  saint." 

This  was  the  man,  then,  that  most  strongly  and  loudly 
objected  to  his  minister's  associating  with  "an  infidel." 
Mark  did  not  know,  at  this  time,  what  good  reason  Mr. 
Smiley  had  for  disliking  Mr.  Winthrop. 


72  BLUFFTON. 


VIII. 

MARK  AND  TOM  TALK. 

THE  day  on  which  Mr.  Forrest  had  read  with  Miss 
Hartley  was  Saturday.  On  Sunday  he  was  very  busy, 
as  usual,  with  his  public  duties ;  and  on  Monday  it  had 
been  arranged  that  Mr.  Winthrop  was  to  spend  the  day  with 
him.  He  had  no  time,  then,  to  do  more  than  call  at  the 
door,  send  up  his  regards,  and  ask  after  Miss  Hartley's 
health.  Finding  that  she  was  steadily  improving,  and  was 
likely  to  be  out  in  a  few  days,  he  returned  to  his  study, 
wrote  a  few  letters,  and  then  went  down  to  the  levee  to  meet 
his  friend. 

"  Well,  Tom,  is  it  up  at  the  study,  or  off  for  a  walk  on  the 
hills,  this  morning?"  was  Mark's  first  greeting  as  his  friend 
stepped  off  the  plank. 

"  I  think,"  replied  Tom,  "  it  would  be  almost  wicked  to 
spend  such  a  glorious  Indian-summer  day  as  this  in  the 
house.  Let's  stretch  our  legs  on  the  hills." 

They  leisurely  climbed  Bowman's  Hill,  and  stood  for  a 
moment  to  fill  their  lungs,  and  take  in  the  wide  beauty  of 
the  scene. 

"  Tom,"  said  Mark,  "  I've  been  over  this  country  a  good 


MARK    AND    TOM   TALK.  73 

deal ;  but,  do  you  know,  I've  never  seen  weather  so  fine  as 
the  fall  here  in  Bluffton  :  not  even  California  excels  it." 

"Yes,"  replied  Tom  :  "I  do  think  it  is  unequalled.  Just 
look  over  the  river  and  the  prairie  yonder.  The  still  air  in 
the  yellow  sunlight  is  just  liquid  gold.  And  then  it  con 
tinues  so,  day  after  day,  for  weeks." 

"  Suppose,"  said  Mark,  "  we  take  a  run  up  the  river,  then 
strike  inland  and  make  the  circuit  of  the  hills,  and  come  out 
on  the  bluff  below  the  town.  We  haven't  been  up  there  yet 
together;  and  it  is  perhaps  the  finest  view  the  city  can 
boast." 

So  off  they  started.  In  a  couple  of  hours  they  had  made 
a  round  of  six  or  eight  miles,  and  stood  on  the  crown  of  the 
great  bluff.  They  now  sat  down  to  rest,  and  look  about 
them.  For  a  time  they  drank  in  the  scene  in  silence.  The 
city  was  at  their  feet ;  and  it  came  so  close  to  the  foot  of 
the  bluff  on  one  side,  that  they  could  have  flung  down  a 
stone  upon  the  roofs  of  the  houses.  On  the  river-side  where 
they  sat  upon  a  knoll  that  formed  a  natural  shelf,  the  bluff 
sank  sheer  down  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  to  where  the  river 
rippled  against  the  pebbles  on  the  shore.  A  steamer  was 
just  passing ;  and  they  could  almost  have  leaped  upon  its 
deck.  Through  the  valley  two  or  three  miles  away  beyond 
the  city,  a  train  of  cars  was  winding  along  like  a  serpent,  and 
silently  approaching  the  town.  The  little  people,  for  such 
they  looked  from  their  high  seats,  were  hurrying  to  and  fro  in 
the  streets  beneath,  while  Mark  and  Tom  could  easily  ima 
gine  themselves  like  gods  on  Olympus,  calmly  overlooking 
the  turmoil  in  which  they  had  no  part. 


74  BLUFFTON. 

Here  they  sat,  and  fell  into  a  long  conversation,  like  many 
in  which,  during  these  times,  they  had  been  engaged. 

"  Mark,  do  you  notice  that  long  line  of  low  bluffs  about 
six  miles  away,  across  the  prairie  beyond  the  river,  and  run 
ning  parallel  with  it  north  and  south  as  far  as  we  can  see  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that  must  be  the  old  bank  of  the  river,  which  ages 
ago  filled  this  whole  basin,  and  covered  the  place  where  all 
these  farms  and  towns  and  railroads  now  are." 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"  '  Think '  isn't  the  word  :  I  know  so.  The  waters  have 
left  the  story  of  their  own  past  work.  The  whole  prairie 
yonder  is  a  river-deposit ;  and  the  wave-marks  are  on  the 
bluffs." 

"  How  long  ago  do  you  reckon  it  was?  " 

"  Oh  !  several  thousand  years.  In  geological  time,  ages 
are  minutes ;  and  a  few  more  or  less  don't  matter." 

"  You  do  not  believe  much  in  Moses,  then,  I  suppose." 

"  Believe  in  Moses,"  said  Tom  :  "  why  should  I  ?  " 

"  Why  should  you  not  ?  Couldn't  God  inspire  a  man  to 
write  a  record  of  His  work?  " 

"  The  question  isn't  whether  he  could,  but  whether  he  did  ; 
and  that  is  a  question  of  fact,  to  be  settled  on  the  evidence. 
Now  Moses  —  or  Genesis  —  says  God  created  the  world  in 
six  days,  about  six  thousand  years  ago.  And  yet  Niagara 
Falls  are  thundering  in  the  ears  of  all  the  world,  that  will 
listen,  the  fact  that  it  has  taken  at  least  two  hundred  thou 
sand  years  for  it  to  cut  through  a  couple  miles  of  rock  from 
the  present  fall  to  the  end  of  the  rapids." 


MARK    AND    TOM    TALK.  75 

"  But  what  of  the  new  interpretation  of  Genesis,  that 
makes  the  six  days  six  periods  of  indefinite  length?" 

"  Only  a  make-shift.  The  record  says  distinctly  days,  with 
evening  and  morning.  And  if  the  word  '  day '  doesn't  mean 
day,  how  do  you  know  what  any  other  word  means  ?  And 
then  the  order  of  the  w.orld's  growth  does  not  agree  with  the 
Mosaic  account,  in  spite  of  all  the  Procrustes  stretching  and 
clipping.  And  there  is  one  principle  I  think  it  is  safe  to  go 
by.  Whether  God  wrote  the  Bible,  or  not,  one  thing  we  do 
know,  the  world  is  his  work  :  nature  is  his  book.  What  that 
says,  then,  is  true,  whether  all  the  old-world  guesses  and 
dreams  about  it  are  true  or  not." 

"  But  do  you  think  that  Moses  wrote  what  he  knew  was 
not  true?" 

"  Now,  look  here,  Mark,  that  starts  a  large  question.  Let's 
go  over  the  Bible  a  little,  and  see  what  we  really  know  about 
it." 

"  At  any  rate,  we  know  how  long  it  has  stood  against  all 
assaults,  and  how  it  has  guided  and  comforted  men." 

"  True  enough  so  far  :  so  have  the  Veda  and  the  Tripitaka 
and  Confucius  and  the  Koran  held  their  own ;  all  but  the 
last  one,  longer  than  the  Bible.  And  they  to-day  comfort 
more  people  than  all  Christendom,  several  times  over.  We 
mustn't  think  we  are  everybody  in  the  world." 

"  But  at  least  the  Bible  is  the  book  of  civilization." 

"  Yes,  because  the  races  that  have  the  Bible  happen  to  be 
the  ones  that  have  in  them  the  stuff  to  make  a  civilization 
out  of." 

"  You  do  not  think  the  Bible,  then,  the  cause  of  civiliza 
tion." 


76  BLUFFTON. 

"  Why  should  I,  when  its  firmest  adherents  have  fought 
advancing  civilization  at  every  step?" 

"But  that  is  the  re-actionary  spirit  of  Roman-Catholic 
conservatism." 

"  No,  Mark,  not  at  all.  Protestantism  in  the  churches 
has  fought  science  as  bitterly  as  Romanism.  Luther  was  as 
severe  against  the  knowledge  that  did  not  accord  with  his 
notions  of  revelation  as  ever  the  Pope  was.  Did  you  never 
read  how  he  abused  and  ridiculed  those  who  dared  to  think 
the  world  was  round,  and  had  inhabitants  on  the  other 
side  ?  " 

"  I  had  not  noticed  it." 

"Well,  what  but  that  is  the  history  of  orthodoxy  all 
through  ?  It  fights  every  thing  new  as  long  as  it  can.  Then 
it  re-interprets  the  Bible,  and  finds  it  all  there,  and  benevo 
lently  takes  it  under  the  wing  of  revelation.  It  won't  be  ten 
years  before  a  fast  and  firm  alliance  will  be  patched  up  be 
tween  even  Darwin  and  Moses.  Moses  will  be  made  out  the 
original  Darwinian.  Just  so  they  treated  Newton  :  they  cursed 
his  gravitation  as  long  as  they  could ;  and  now  for  two  hun 
dred  years  have  been  using  the  great  law  to  glorify  the  Jew 
ish  conception  of  a  God  who  taught  a  flat  world  '  founded  on 
the  seas  and  established  on  the  floods.'  " 

"  But  is  it  not  significant,  that  the  Bible  nations  are  the 
only  ones  to  make  progress? " 

"  First,  it  isn't  true  ;  and,  next,  if  it  were  it  would  not  be 
strange.  The  Bible  didn't  create  religion :  religions  create 
Bibles.  The  highest,  most  moral,  and  most  intellectual 
nations  will  produce  the  highest  and  purest  sacred  books ; 


MARK   AND    TOM   TALK.  77 

just  as  the  most  intellectual  nations  produce  the  grandest 
epics,  dramas,  and  works  of  art. 

"But  look  here,  Mark,  let  us  look  the  Bible  over,  and 
see  what  claims  it  actually  makes,  and  what  its  character 
really  is.  If  there  is  any  reason  why  we  should  always 
be  fenced  in  with  texts,  all  right :  if  not,  then  let  us  look 
over  God's  universe  freely,  and  see  things  as  they  are,  and 
not  as  people  ages  ago  thought  they  were." 

"  Well,"  said  Mark,  "I  have  a  thousand  reasons  for  wish 
ing  to  believe  the  Bible ;  but  I  were  a  coward  to  shrink  from 
investigating  it.  If  it  is  God's  book,  it  will  bear  looking  at." 

"  What  proof  is  there,  then,  that  it  is  inspired  ?  " 

"  Of  course  no  intelligent  man  now  holds  the  old  theories 
of  inspiration.  Old  Dr.  Owen,  you  know,  held  that  even 
the  Massoretic  points  in  the  Hebrew  must  be  inspired,  or 
else  we  had  no  certainty  as  to  its  meaning.  The  verbal 
theories  are  now  abandoned." 

"But  Dr.  Owen  was  right,"  said  Tom.  "And,  if  it  isn't 
verbal,  it  is  all  afloat.  You  say  you  only  hold  its  essential 
teaching.  But  Christendom  has  never  agreed  as  to  what 
that  is ;  and  now  men,  getting  cornered  on  its  scientific  mis 
takes,  say  it  is  only  inspired  to  teach  morals.  But  its  morals, 
even,  are  not  always  the  best.  So  the  cloud  foundation 
shifts.  Does  the  Bible  claim  to  be  inspired?  " 

"  It  says,  '  All  scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God, 
and  is  profitable,'  &c." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  but  it  doesn't,"  replied  Tom.  "  Bishop 
Ellicott  says  the  passage  ought  to  read:  'All  scripture, 
that  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God,  is  profitable, '  &c.  It 


78  BLUFFTON. 

doesn't  say  what  scripture ;  and  since,  when  that  was 
written  none  of  the  New  Testament  was  gathered,  it  couldn't 
refer  to  that,  in  any  case." 

"  But  the  writers  claim  to  have  had  divine  guidance.  Do 
you  think  they  lied?" 

'•'  No  :  I  think  they  were  mistaken.  The  people  of  all  the 
e&rly  ages  supposed  themselves  to  receive  divine  messages. 
They  thought  dreams  and  ecstasies,  and  all  abnormal  and 
mysterious  manifestations  of  power  and  life,  indicated  super 
natural  presences  and  communications.  I  do  not  think  any 
of  the  old  religious  founders  and  prophets,  in  any  nation, 
were  conscious  impostors.  They  took  for  divine*  what  we 
now  know  to  be  natural :  that  is  all." 

"  But,"  said  Mark,  "  how  did  a  man  living  in  Moses'  time 
have  such  exalted  ideas  of  God's  nature  and  character,  when 
all  the  rest  of  the  world  was  in  deep  darkness  ?  He  must 
have  been  supernaturally  illuminated." 

"  That  starts  just  what  I  wanted  to  say.  It  is  now  settled 
conclusively,  by  modern  criticism,  that  Moses  was  not  the 
author  of  the  Pentateuch,  at  all.  In  its  present  shape  it  is  the 
product  of  the  highest  and  latest  thought  of  the  Hebrew  race. 
The  grandeur  of  the  first  verse  of  Genesis  represents  the 
highest  peak  of  Jewish  civilization,  and  not  the  low  starting- 
point.  The  Pentateuch  is  full  of  traces  of  a  later  age.  It  is 
just  as  if  we  should  find  in  Shakspeare  references  to  the 
telegraph  and  ocean-steamers.  The  five  books  are  full  of 
the  finger-marks  of  the  few  centuries  just  preceding  Christ. 
And  then,  what  would  be  thought  in  a  court  of  justice,  of 
such  proof  as  that  on  which  men  take  the  Old  Testament?" 


MARK    AND    TOM    TALK.  79 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  this  :  Nearly  the  whole  Old  Testament  is  anony 
mous.  It  is  a  national  literature.  Nobody  knows  who  wrote 
it,  nor  where  nor  when  :  only  that  we  know  it  was  not  writ 
ten  —  the  most  of  it  —  in  the  way  popularly  supposed.  It 
is  just  a  mass  of  traditions,  national  legends,  and  wonder- 
stories,  wrought  into  its  present  shape  by  unknown  hands." 

"  But  a  moment  ago  you  spoke  disparagingly  of  its  morals. 
It  is  often  urged  as  conclusive  proof  of  its  inspiration,  that  it 
is  a  '  morally-winnowed'  book." 

" '  Morally-winnowed,'  indeed  !  It  isn't  pleasant  business 
to  pick  flaws  in  the  morals  of  the  Bible ;  but  it  is  safe  to 
say  that  the  average  tone  of  society  to-day  is  infinitely 
above  the  ordinary  levels  of  the  Old  Testament.  The  char 
acter  of  Yahweh  himself  is  such  that  he  would  not  make 
a  respectable  citizen  of  Bluffton  to-day.  Study  it  carefully, 
and  see.  What  of  the  morals  of  God's  commanding  the 
Jews  to  capture  and  sack  a  city,  to  kill  all  the  men,  married 
women,  and  children,  and  keep  the  virgins  for  the  vilest  pur 
poses  ?  " 

"  Is  that  in  the  Old  Testament?  " 

"  You  haven't  read  it  carefully  if  you  haven't  found  it. 
What  of  the  morals  of  polygamy  and  slavery  ?  What  of  the 
morals  of  supporting  God's  temple  by  bands  of  prostitutes, 
as  the  Greeks  did  that  of  Venus?  What  of  the  morals  of 
the  hundred  and  ninth  Psalm?  what  of  human  sacrifices 
practised  clear  down  to  the  eighth  century  B.  C.  ?  what  of  a 
cruel,  jealous,  revengeful  God?  Morals  !"  he  exclaimed  in 
some  excitement,  "  if  a  heathen  nation  were  found  practis- 


8O  BLUFFTON. 

ing  Old-Testament  morality,  there  would  be  new  activity  in 
the  Bible  Society  to  send  them  a  new  religion.  These  things 
are  overlooked  in  the  Bible,  because  a  part  of  them  are  veiled 
in  an  obscure  translation,  and  partly  because  people  read 
with  such  a  veil  of  superstitious  reverence  that  they  cannot 
see  any  defect  in  the  idol  they  worship." 

"  But,  whatever  you  think  of  the  Old  Testament,  you  must 
admit  the  divinity  in  the  New." 

"  Well,  let  us  see.  Even  some  of  the  best  orthodox  crit 
ics —  like  Professor  Smith  of  Aberdeen  —  admit  that  the 
Gospels  are  only  '  non-apostolic  digests  '  of  earlier  traditions. 
Such  a  man  as  Baring-Gould,  orthodox  and  High-Church 
chaplain  of  the  Queen,  confesses  that  the  New  Testament  is 
only  'the  expression  of  the  belief  of  the  early  Church.' 
No  one  knows  who  wrote  either  of  the  Gospels,  except  that 
it  is  pretty  well  known  that  John  did  not  write  the  one  attrib 
uted  to  him  by  after-tradition.  Nearly  the  whole  New  Tes 
tament  is  anonymous,  except  the  few  genuine  Epistles  of 
Paul.  And,  even  if  it  were  not  so,  it  only  means  that  per 
sons  sixteen  or  seventeen  hundred  years  ago  believed  so  and 
so.  I  can't  see  why  that  is  any  reason  why  I  should  believe 
the  same,  apart  from  any  evidence." 

"  But  the  morality  of  the  New  Testament  "  — 

"Isn't  absolute,"  broke  in  Tom,  "any  more  than  the  Old. 
A  man  like  Beecher  confesses  that  it  would  overthrow  soci 
ety  to  put  into  wide  practice  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
It  is  a  beautiful  ideal;  but  much  of  the  best  of  modern 
civilization  has  come  from  not  obeying  it." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Mark. 


MARK   AND   TOM   TALK.  8 1 

"Why,  for  instance,  Christ  forbids  struggling  for  your 
rights,  and  commands  non-resistance.  Now,  the  whole  prog 
ress  of  English  liberty  and  the  rights  of  man  has  come  from 
disobeying  it.  It  commands  meekness  and  self-abnegation. 
All  advance  has  come  from  self-development,  and  the  Occi 
dental  spirit  of  daring,  so  opposed  to  the  Oriental  mysticism 
out  of  which  the  doctrines  spring." 

"Well,"  said  Mark,  "what  else?" 

"  Not  much  more  now,  but  only  a  word  or  two  as  illustra 
tion.  Jesus  teaches  communism  and  against  property.  Civ 
ilization  is  based  on  the  exact  opposite  of  such  teaching. 
It  might  be  easy  enough  in  the  out-door  life  of  Galilee  to 
live  like  lilies  and  sparrows,  '  taking  no  thought ; '  but  it 
won't  do  here.  And  even  there  somebody  had  to  work,  and 
think,  and  plan  ahead,  or  even  the  sparrows  would  have  gone 
hungry. 

"  And  then,  Paul's  morality  is  far  from  faultless.  His  doc 
trine  of  women  is  thoroughly  degrading.  They  are  only  for 
the  use  of  men,  to  keep  those  from  being  immoral  who  are 
not  strong  enough  to  lead  a  celibate  life.  He  laid  the  foun 
dation  for  all  the  monasticism  of  the  middle  ages." 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  Mark,  "you  notice  I've  let  you  do  all 
the  talking ;  for  I  wanted  to  hear  the  utmost  you  would  say. 
I've  only  asked  questions  enough  to  keep  you  moving. 
Don't  think  I  can  swallow  it  all." 

"Don't  swallow  any  of  it  until  you  are  sure  it  is  true," 
replied  Tom. 

"  No,"  said  Mark ;  "  and  when,  if  ever,  I  am  convinced  it 
is  true,  I  will  not  shrink.  Truth  only  is  God ;  and  truth 
must  be  followed,  even  if  the  Bible  is  lost." 


82  BLUFFTON. 

"  But  you  don't  lose  the  Bible.  Why  will  men  talk  in  that 
way?  You  only  find  it :  you  find  what  it  is.  It  isn't  strange 
that  it  should  have  errors,  and  lower  ideas  of  morals,  if  it  is 
a  human  work.  And  then,  the  fact  that  so  much  of  psalm 
and  prophet  and  gospel  and  epistle  is  grand  and  noble 
and  inspiring,  gives  the  grandest  promise  for  humanity, 
the  moment  you  allow  it  to  be  a  human  work.  The  human 
ity  that  makes  a  Bible  in  its  infancy,  what  may  it  not  be  in 
its  fully-developed  manhood?" 

"But,  Tom,  it  touches  me  more  closely  than  you  can 
think.  It  is  every  thing  to  me,  —  religion,  my  past  life,  my 
future  prospects,  and " — hesitating  —  "something  I  hardly 
dare  think  of." 

"Why,  what  is  it?" 

"  You  remember  your  thoughtless  remark  about  the  judge's 
daughter,  as  we  stood  on  the  levee  ?  " 

"Yes ;  but  what  has  she  to  do  with  this?  " 

"Every  thing.  I  haven't  spoke  to  you  about  it  before, 
because  I  did  not  wish  to  confess  my  care  for  her  until  I 
had  some  reason  to  think  she  cared  for  me.  I  love  her 
madly.  I  think  she  is  not  indifferent  to  me.  But  she 
would  think  me  lost  forever,  did  she  know  my  religious 
thoughts,  and  guess  the  possibility  of  my  becoming  a  here 
tic." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  her,  and  see?" 

"I'm  a  coward.  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  paining  her. 
And  the  judge  would  never  consent.  He'd  think  hell 
yawned  beneath  his  daughter's  feet." 

"  Are  you  engaged? " 


MARK   AND    TOM    TALK.  83 

"  No ;  and  I  can't  think  it  quite  honest  to  ask  her  hand 
till  she  knows  my  doubts,  and  where  my  convictions  may 
lead  me." 

"  Well,  Mark,  old  fellow,"  said  Tom  sympathetically,  "  I 
believe,  if  I  had  known  all  this,  I'd  have  almost  talked  on  the 
other  side.  At  least,  I  wouldn't  have  tried  to  influence  you 
any." 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,  don't  think  you  are  the  cause  of  all 
my  doubts.  You  only  echo  to  me  what  is  in  all  the  air ; 
what  learned  books  are  saying.  I  have  been  thinking  and 
studying  this  long  while,  and  I  am  not  afraid  to  face  facts." 

"And  yet,"  remarked  Tom,  "the  tragic  side  of  these 
things  comes  over  me  sometimes  as  horrible.  In  a  world 
like  this,  it  costs  fearfully  to  follow  truth.  The  world  has  paid 
its  pioneers  and  leaders  generally  with  tombstones,  after  re 
fusing  them  bread.  Jesus  said  you  couldn't  follow  him,  in 
his  day,  without  '  giving  up  all : '  it's  the  same  to-day." 

"But,  Tom,  let's  go  home  for  some  lunch.  We've  sat  here 
long  enough."  And  as  they  went  down  the  bluff,  and  up  the 
streets,  they  continued  their  conversation.  At  last,  just  be 
fore  they  got  to  his  boarding-house,  Mark  said,  — 

"  Well,  of  one  thing  I  am  sure  :  righteousness  is  better 
than  unrighteousness  ;  and,  whatever  becomes  of  the  records, 
I  believe  in  the  ever-present  spirit  and  the  everlasting  love  of 
God.  That's  enough  to  preach  for  a  while.  I  will  busy  my 
self  in  the  practical  work  of  trying  to  make  my  people  better, 
and  let  the  ferment  of  my  mind  work  itself  clear.  So  much 
is  safe,  any  way." 


84  BLUFFTON. 


IX. 

A  GAME  OF  CROQUET,   AND   WHO  WON. 

THE  resolve  at  which  Mr.  Forrest  arrived,  at  the  close 
of  the  last  chapter,  gave  him  at  least  a  temporary  rest 
from  his  struggle  with  doubt.  He  had  had  hours  when  he 
had  felt  as  though  he  could  preach  no  longer.  He  seemed 
to  be  climbing  the  shifting  side  of  a  mountain  of  sand,  that 
gave  way  at  every  step.  He  could  find  no  solid  place  on 
which  to  plant  his  feet.  And  yet  he  must  struggle  on.  He 
had  left  the  quiet  of  tradition.  He  could  not  now  go  back, 
for  he  knew  too  much  of  the  real  uncertainty  of  those  things 
that  tradition  takes  for  granted.  The  only  course  open  was 
for  him  to  press  forward  until  he  gained  that  other  calm  that 
comes  of  intelligent  conviction. 

But  he  could  find  —  as  others  have  done  —  a  temporary 
peace  by  talcing  refuge  in  the  practical,  though  he  after 
wards  learned  that  no  deep  thinker  can  permanently  rest  so 
long  as  the  theoretical  and  practical  are  out  of  harmony. 
But  for  the  time  he  flung  his  doubts  aside.  He  walked  his 
study,  and  thought  aloud  :  — 

"Whatever  else  is  doubtful,  there  is  no  doubt  about  the 
Golden  Rule.  What  the  world  means  by  practical  Christian- 


A    GAME    OF    CROQUET,    AND    WHO    WON.  85 

ity  is  practical  righteousness ;  and  by  that  law  every  intelli 
gent  man  is  bound.  Wherever  it  came  from,  whatever  theory 
is  held  concerning  inspiration,  or  the  nature  of  Christ,  on 
which  it  is  supposed  historically  to  rest,  still  Christianity  is 
a  fact.  And  every  man  ought  to  be  a  practical  Christian, 
because  that  means  loving  God  and  your  fellow-men.  This, 
after  all,  is  the  heart  of  the  whole  matter ;  and  in  this  spirit 
I  will  preach  and  work." 

In  such  a  mood  it  was  easy  for  him  to  persuade  himself 
that  his  theological  troubles  were,  after  all,  not  of  chief  im 
portance,  and  that  they  did  not  necessarily  touch  the  great 
essentials  of  life.  His  natural  temperament  was  buoyant  and 
hopeful,  and  so  he  was  inclined  to  make  too  little  of  a  trouble 
that  was  past.  He  even  began  to  wonder  that  he  had  allowed 
it  to  trouble  him  so  much.  And  he  sat  down  at  his  desk, 
and  sketched  a  sermon  for  the  next  Sunday  that  he  would 
preach  "to  doubters;"  and  in  it  he  planned  to  take  the 
ground,  that,  whatever  theoretical  difficulties  any  one  might 
have,  all  were  agreed  that  they  should  help  build  up  "  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  "  on  earth,  and  that  was  the  essential 
thing  in  religion. 

He  hardly  knew  it  himself;  and  yet,  to  one  who  could  have 
analyzed  his  motives,  it  would  have  been  apparent  that  love 
was  one  of  the  main  links  of  his  logic.  "  For,  since  these 
things  are  so,"  he  thought,  "  I  have  been  a  fool  to  think  I 
would  be  doing  Miss  Margaret  a  wrong  to  tell  her  of  my 
love.  We  shall  be  practically  agreed  in  the  work  of  life. 
And  if,  as  I  cannot  help  hoping,  she  really  cares  for  me,  I 
might  even  be  doing  her  an  injury  to  turn  away  from  her  on 
account  of  a  theolosrical  whim." 


86  BLUFFTON. 

Do  not  blame  him  too  severely,  O  reader,  for  his  apparent 
inconsistency.  Much  may  be  forgiven  to  love.  And,  even 
if  not,  who  of  us  but  has  sometimes  seen  the  strong  horse, 
Logic,  harnessed  in  unconscious  sophistries,  and  reined  and 
driven  by  inclination? 

Miss  Margaret  was  now  quite  herself  again.  The  won- 
drously  beautiful  autumn  weather  continued,  a  hazy,  golden 
Indian  summer,  without  a  thought  of  chill  in  the  balmy  air. 
In  front  of  the  house  was  a  narrow  lawn,  which  extended 
widely  on  each  side,  and  stretched  far  back  at  the  rear. 
Tall  elms  and  spreading  chestnuts  were  scattered  about 
irregularly,  having  the  charm  of  native  wildness,  while  the 
ground  beneath  was  kept  like  a  garden.  Little  lawn  and 
croquet  parties  were  common  where  the  facilities  were  so 
tempting :  so,  on  one  of  these  fine  autumn  afternoons,  Miss 
Hartley  invited  some  of  the  young  people  of  the  society  to 
tea,  and  to  the  croquet-matches  that  were  to  follow.  Natu 
rally  Mr.  Forrest  was  among  the  number.  Being  skilful  in 
all  games  and  out-door  sports,  having  a  ready  fund  of  wit 
and  anecdote,  no  such  company  was  quite  complete  without 
him.  And  then  it  was  proper  and  customary  to  invite  the 
minister,  particularly  as  he  was  young  and  single.  We  may 
guess,  also,  that  possibly  Miss  Hartley  may  have  had  a-nother 
and  a  more  personal  motive  ;  for  the  young  people  —  who 
have  eyes  for  such  things  —  had  taken  note  of  the  fact  that 
she  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  his  company;  and  aunt 
Sally  Rawson  had  remarked  in  the  sewing-circle, — 

"  I  wonder  if  none  on  ye  hain't  noticed  it.  Sure's  yer 
born,  the  minister's  shinin'  up  to  Judge  Hartley's  oldest  gal ; 


A    GAME    OF    CROQUET,    AND    WHO    WON.  8/ 

and  they  say  she  'pears  to  like  it's  well's  he  does.  Reckon 
that's  the  reason  he  ain't  called  on  me  fer  more'n  a  month. 
I  hope,  when  he  gits  settled  down,  he'll  find  time  to  'tend  to 
his  parish  work  a  leetle  better." 

But,  in  blissful  unconsciousness  of  sewing-circle  criticisms, 
Mr.  Forrest  accepted  the  invitation  to  the  croquet-party. 
Nor  did  he  trouble  himself  about  the  motive  that  prompted 
his  invitation.  He  was  only  too  glad  of  any  reason  that 
brought  him  near  Miss  Hartley ;  and  he  had  already  begun 
to  reproach  himself  that  he  had  not  made  better  use  of  his 
opportunities  at  the  readings,  to  find  out  whether  his  guesses 
and  hopes  concerning  her  were  true. 

Tea  passed,  as  such  teas  do,  in  pleasant  chat  about  "  airy 
nothings  ;  "  except  that  now  and  then  the  judge  tried,  with 
poor  success,  to  give  the  conversation  a  theological  turn,  as 
following  the  bent  of  his  own  inclinations,  and  what  he  also 
considered  the  proprieties  when  a  minister  was  present.  But 
in  the  party  of  young  and  spirited  people  there  was  too 
much  of  the  flesh-and-blood  life  of  this  world  to  incline 
them  to  take  kindly  to  discussions  about  the  other. 

When  tea  was  over  they  all  adjourned  to  the  lawn,  some 
to  promenade  and  talk,  some  to  sit  under  the  trees  and  look 
on.  The  grounds  were  large  enough  to  admit  of  several 
croquet-sets,  and  so  of  several  different  parties  at  the  play. 
Mr.  Forrest  and  Miss  Hartley,  well  matched  as  to  skill,  were 
among  the  best  players  on  the  grounds,  and  so  were  rarely 
allowed  to  play  together  on  the  same  side. 

At  last  they  had  distinguished  themselves  so  well,  that 
some  one  proposed  they  should  play  alone,  one  against  the 


88  BLUFTTON. 

other,  for  the  evening's  championship ;  and  gayly  they  entered 
upon  the  pleasant  contest.  Mr.  Forrest,  being  the  stronger 
of  the  two,  might  have  had  an  advantage  in  striking,  and 
especially  in  croqueting  his  opponent's  balls ;  but  of  course 
he  was  too  chivalrous  to  take  it.  At  the  same  time  he  con 
sidered  it  a  poor  compliment  to  her,  and  a  real  lack  of 
respectful  courtesy,  to  give  her  a  not-fairly-won  game  by 
purposely  playing  poorly.  So  he  determined  to  do  his  best. 

They  began,  and  played  very  evenly  down  the  field  to  the 
first  stake ;  and  then,  as  they  turned  up  on  the  home  play, 
a  curious  and  superstitious  feeling  came  over  him,  that  some 
how,  as  he  struck  the  balls,  he  was  driving  about  his  own 
destiny,  and  that  winning  or  losing  here  was  winning  or 
losing  Miss  Hartley  forever. 

There  was  something  in  the  time  and  the  air  that  helped 
the  weird  sensation.  It  was  now  twilight,  with  a  rising  moon, 
as  yet  behind  an  eastern  hill,  though  its  light  was  soft  and 
beautiful  on  the  tops  of  the  trees  and  the  hills  to  the  west. 
And  then  his  love  for  her  was  now  grown  so  great  that  even 
the  slightest  and  most  fanciful  thing  that  in  any  way  con 
nected  itself  with  her  relations  to  him  took  on  a  most  exag 
gerated  importance. 

Lest  his  fancy  should  seem  too  fantastic,  it  will  be  well 
for  us  to  remember  that  there  is  something  of  the  fetish-wor 
shipper  still  left  in  us  all ;  something  of  the  feeling  that  in 
the  world's  childhood,  and  among  credulous  and  undevel 
oped  people  still,  makes  it  easy  to  attach  a  magical  and  un 
reasonable  importance  to  charms,  to  relics,  and  to  fanciful 
coincidences.  When  calm,  and  in  daylight,  many  men  and 


A   GAME    OF    CROQUET,   AND   WHO   WON.  89 

women  will  laugh  merrily  over  things,  that,  in  reason's  de 
spite,  they  pay  a  sort  of  superstitious  regard  to  when  nervous 
or  weary,  or  in  the  silence  and  weirdness  of  night.  People 
still  regard  Fridays,  and  seeing  new  moons  over  left  shoul 
ders,  and  thirteen  at  table,  who  would  be  ashamed  to  de 
fend  themselves  for  doing  it.  Dr.  Johnson  could  bend  all 
his  ponderous  learning  to  a  care  to  enter  a  room  right 
foot  first,  or  to  touching  all  the  posts  by  the  wayside  with 
his  cane  as  he  passed.  Byron's  boldness  became  cowardice 
when  salt  was  spilled  at  table.  Similar  whims  or  fancies 
have  their  times  of  dominating  us  all.  Thus  is  our  civiliza 
tion  still  branded  with  the  birthmark  of  the  old  world's 
superstitions. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Mr.  Forrest  held  his  whim 
sical  fancy  as  sober  fact,  even  in  his  own  mind.  Being 
absorbed  in  the  play,  and  musing  and  dreaming  deeply  of 
his  passionate  love,  he  simply  felt  the  fantastic  spell  of  the 
idea  creep  over  him,  and  did  not  care  to  resist  it.  He  let 
Ais  weird  fancy  run  on,  and  whisper  to  his  anxious  love  that 
he  was  playing  for  the  high  stake  of  her  hand  and  the  happi 
ness  of  a  life.  So  he  played  in  quiet  and  as  if  spell-bound. 
He  was  proud  that  she  played  so  well ;  and  yet  it  was  with 
a  sort  of  despair  that  he  saw  her  take  the  lead.  And  when 
her  ball  passed  through  the  last  wicket,  and  rebounded  from 
the  sharp  stroke  by  which  it  was  driven  against  the  home 
stake,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  his  revery  that  he  exclaimed,  — 

"  Oh,  heaven  !  I've  lost  her  !  " 

He  had  felt  cut  by  a  sharp  pang  at  his  heart,  as  though 
some  demonic  power  had  seized  her  forever  out  of  his  sight. 


9O  BLUFFTON. 

He  was  really  startled  to  find  what  an  impulse  he  had  felt 
to  seize  upon  her  before  she  should  be  spirited  away.  He 
looked  about  with  some  confusion  as  he  became  conscious 
of  what  he  had  said,  and  was  relieved  to  see  that  only  Miss 
Hartley  had  noticed  his  words.  A  strange  look  on  her  face 
made  him  think  that  she  guessed  the  half-understood  utter 
ance  had  some  reference  to  herself;  but  of  course  she  made 
no  allusion  to  it. 

"Hurrah,"  said  Miss  Sue,  "for  the  honor  of  our  sex! 
Madge  has  won  the  game  !  " 

"It's  only  a  short-lived  victory,"  said  Miss  Margaret; 
"  for  Mr.  Forrest  hasn't  played  his  best  to-night." 

"  Well,"  chimed  in  the  other  girlish  voices, "  we'll  triumph 
while  we  may.  A  victory  is  a  victory,  for  one  night  at 
least." 

"A  victory  well  earned,"  said  Mr.  Forrest.  "No  one 
shall  dispute  or  deny  the  honors.  Miss  Margaret  has  the 
field ;  and  to  no  other  would  I  more  readily  yield  up  my 
mallet,  and  submit  as  the  conquered  must." 

And  so  the  playful  chat  went  on.  But  soon  the  company 
had  dispersed,  all  but  Mr.  Forrest  and  Miss  Margaret,  for 
Miss  Sue  had  herself  stepped  into  the  house. 

"Come,  Miss  Margaret,"  said  Mr.  Forrest,  "the  night  is 
too  lovely  to  go  in  as  yet.  Now  that  you  have  beaten  me 
so  badly,  would  it  not  be  magnanimous  in  you  to  grant  me 
a  favor?" 

"  After  my  triumph,  of  course  I  ought  to  feel  gracious 
and  condescending.  What  favor?  " 

"  A  stroll  over  the  hill  yonder,  toward  the  moon  and  the 
river.  It  is  so  mild,  you  cannot  take  cold." 


A    GAME    OF    CROQUET,    AND    WHO    WON.  9! 

"  If  you  ask  nothing  harder  than  that,  you  will  make  it  a 
pleasure  to  comply.  I  think,  myself,  it  is  too  bad  to  lose  an 
evening  like  this  in  the  house." 

And  so  through  the  moonlight  and  the  shadows  the  two 
young  and  hopeful  hearts  went  slowly  up  the  sloping  hill 
side  toward  the  east.  The  outer  landscape  of  which  they 
were  a  part  was  wondrously  beautiful ;  but  the  inner  world 
of  high  and  pure  imagination  and  brilliant  hope,  through 
which  they  moved  together,  was  an  enchanted  land  of  ro 
mance  and  beauty.  Is  there  any  thing  on  earth  so  fair  as 
the  worlds  that  are  created  by  youthful  and  pure  love  ?  He 
would  have  given  all  he  possessed,  to  know  that  the  fair 
creature  beside  him  could  find  it  in  her  heart  to  keep  step 
with  him  on  the  pathway  of  life.  And  she  —  shall  we  re 
veal  it?  —  knew,  by  her  woman's  instinct,  that  the  strong 
and  noble  man  by  her  side  was  her  slave ;  but  in  her  soul 
she  looked  up  to  him,  and  crowned  him  as  the  king  of  all 
the  men  she  had  ever  seen. 

They  made  a  beautiful  picture  in  the  tender  light.  As  the 
ascent  of  the  hill  grew  steeper,  she  leaned  happily  upon  his 
offered  arm ;  and,  though  usually  looking  down  or  at  the  new 
scene  of  loveliness  that  opened  at  every  step,  now  and  then 
she  stole  a  quick  glance  at  his  face,  and  tried  to  guess  his 
thoughts.  He  was  the  image  of  strong,  straight,  and  vigorous 
manhood.  Her  lithe  and  graceful  form,  covered  but  not 
concealed  by  the  light  crocheted  shawl  thrown  loosely  about 
her  shoulders,  was  fit  for  a  sculptor's  model.  Her  dark  eyes 
glowed  in  the  shadow,  or  gleamed  as  the  moonlight  shone 
full  in  upon  her  face.  He  only  wished  such  night  and  such 
companionship  might  never  end. 


92  BLUFFTON. 

"Miss  Madge,"  said  he,  breaking  the  happy  silence, — 
"  if  I  may  dare  to  be  so  familiar,"  — 

"  Yes,  call  me  Madge  :  I've  often  wished  you  would,"  said 
she.  "  It  brings  back  the  old  school-days,  and  makes  me  a 
little  girl  again." 

"  And  yet  I  wouldn't  have  you  a  little  girl  again." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  you  would  not  be  what  you  are,"  he  replied. 

They  now  stood  on  the  crown  of  the  hill ;  and  they  invol 
untarily  stood  still. 

"  And  this  is  in  the  night,  most  glorious  night  I 
Thou  wert  not  sent  for  slumber  !  " 

exclaimed  Mr.  Forrest.  "  Just  see  what  a  night,  and  what 
a  picture  !  The  city  is  now  at  our  feet.  See  the  sharp  con 
trast  of  brilliant  house-tops  and  dark-shadowed  streets.  How 
still  the  busy  life  has  become  ! " 

"  And  the  sky,"  said  Madge  :  "  it  is  so  bright  that  hardly 
a  star  dares  try  to  rival  the  moon.  How  vivid  those  lines 
of  Wordsworth !  — 

'  The  moon  doth  with  delight 
Look  round  her  when  the  heavens  are  bare.' " 

"And  only  look  at  the  river  !  "  said  he.  "  No  one  knows 
how  beautiful  water  can  be  till  he  sees  it  on  such  a  night  as 
this.  The  high  bank  throws  out  there  a  ragged  shadow; 
and  all  the  rest  is  polished  silver.  The  brown  bluff  yonder, 
and  the  shadowy  prairie  beyond,  make  the  contrasts  per 
fect." 

"  Here,  under  these  trees,  are  some  rocky  seats.  Let's 
sit  down,  and  enjoy  the  scene  for  a  little,"  said  she. 


A   GAME   OF   CROQUET,    AND    WHO   WON.  93 

When  they  were  seated  together  Mark  said,  — 

"  It  makes  my  heart  ache  still,  to  think  what  I  suffered  the 
last  time  I  was  as  near  to  you  as  this." 

"  If  proximity  to  me  is  painful,  I  will  move,"  said  she 
with  an  air  of  saucy  banter. 

"  Now,  it  is  too  bad  to  torture  my  meaning  so,  even  in 
fun,"  said  he.  "You  can  never  know  what  I  suffered." 

"Why,  how  do  you  mean,  and  when?"  said  she,  pretend 
ing  an  ignorance  that  was  hardly  real. 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  I  mean  when  I  held  your  head 
on  my  knee,  and  watched  in  an  agony  of  suspense  to  see 
your  breath  come  back?  I  should  have  hated  life  unless 
you  had  breathed  again." 

He  noticed  that  she  blushed  faintly  in  the  moonlight  as 
she  said, — 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  before  that  my  head  had  been  in 
your  lap." 

"  But  I  had  a  right,"  said  he  in  self-defence,  "  for  I  was 
your  physician  then." 

He  drew  closer  to  her,  and  gently  took  the  hand  that  lay 
in  her  lap,  and  which  she  did  not  withdraw. 

"Madge,"  said  he  in  a  lower  tone,  "do  you  know,  that, 
when  you  were  unconscious,  you  called  me  Mark,  and  clung 
to  me  as  if  I  were  your  protector?  " 

She  did  not  answer,  except  by  a  far-away  look  in  her  eyes, 
and  a  hardly-perceptible  flutter  of  her  prisoned  hand ;  and 
Mark  continued,  — 

"  And  do  you  know,  that,  when  the  blood  came  back  in 
your  face,  I  was  the  happiest  man  alive  ?  and  that  since  that 


94  BLUFFTON. 

time,  whether  looking  at  you  in  church,  or  walking  or  talk 
ing  or  reading  with  you,  I  have  been  trying  to  guess  a 
riddle  that  only  you  can  answer,  and  that  means  life  or 
death  to  all  I  care  for  in  the  world  ?  " 

"  Was  it  being  absorbed  in  trying  to  guess  that  riddle,  that 
made  you  play  so  badly  at  croquet  to-night?  "  said  she. 

"  Did  I  play  worse  than  usual?  " 

"  Never  so  poorly,  or  I  shouldn't  have  won.  I  know  you 
were  dreaming,  for  you  talked  in  your  dream." 

"  O  Madge  ! "  said  he,  "  it  was  a  horrible  fancy  for  a  mo 
ment." 

"What  was  horrible?" 

"  I  thought  I  had  lost  —  what  was  not  mine  to  lose ;  and 
yet  the  wild  fancy  almost  broke  my  heart." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Forrest  ?  "  said  she,  glan 
cing  in  his  face,  and  then  quickly  looking  away  again. 

"I  mean,"  said  he  passionately,  "whatever  I  say,  and 
whatever  I  do,  I  mean  always  but  one  word  :  only  that  one 
word  is  the  universe  to  me :  I  mean  —  love,  dear  Madge  ! 
Oh,  do  not  speak  at  all,  Miss  Hartley,  if  you  must  say  what  I 
dread  !  and  yet  do  speak ;  for  I  cannot  wait  longer  to  know 
if  my  dream  is  a  lie." 

She  did  not  speak;  but,  turning  and  looking  up  in  his 
eyes  one  moment,  the  tears  started,  and  her  head  sunk  on  his 
shoulder.  He  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  held  her  close 
to  his  heart,  both  of  them  too  happy  to  care  for  speech. 
For  perhaps  it  is  true  that  two  persons  never  know  each 
other  perfectly  till  they  can  be  completely  happy  in  the  mere 
feet  of  companionship,  without  feeling  the  need  of  words. 


A    GAME    OF    CROQUET,    AND    WHO    WON.  95 

What  they  said  and  did  in  the  moments  that  followed, 
lovers  need  not  be  told,  and  others  have  no  business  to 
know.  It  was  a  beautiful  world,  of  prairie  and  river  and 
bluff  and  town,  lighted  by  the  moon,  of  which  these  happy 
lovers  were  a  part ;  but  within  and  before  was  a  world  that 
was  fairer  still,  illumined  with  a  light  that  "  never  was  on  sea 
or  land."  At  last  Mr.  Forrest  said,  — 

"  Come,  Madge,  —  for  here  I  renounce  the  Margaret  for 
ever,  —  they'll  be  wondering  what  is  become  of  us.  We 
must  return  to  the  house." 

And,  as  they  went,  the  new  love  created  for  them  a  "  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth."  They  were  new-born  son  and 
daughter  of  God,  treading  the  fair,  moon-kissed  world,  not 
envying  even  the  angels ;  for  were  they  not  dwellers,  too,  in 
one  of  the  starlit  rooms  of  the  divine  house  where  the 
Father  of  both  angels  and  men  had  given  them  their  beauty 
and  their  bliss  ? 


96  BLUFFTON. 


X. 

THE  MINISTER  IN  HIS  WORK. 

THE  autumn  flew  on ;  for  to  Mr.  Forrest  its  wings  were 
well  matched,  love  for  his  work,  and  love  for  Madge. 
His  individual  and  private  love,  instead  of  hindering  his  uni 
versal,  only  broadened  and  deepened  it,  as  giving  him  loftier 
and  sweeter  conceptions  of  the  meaning  and  possibilities  of 
human  life. 

Madge  was  troubled  with  only  one  thing,  and  this  she  did 
not  reveal  to  him.  Her  father,  the  judge,  when  he  learned  of 
the  engagement,  gave  a  not  over  hearty  consent.  He  was 
democratic  enough  to  be  willing  to  see  her  marry  a  man  with 
no  great  means  or  high  social  position ;  but  so  intense  was 
his  dogmatic  belief  and  zeal,  that  he  would  grimly  have 
buried  her,  as  though  making  her  an  offering  to  the  Lord, 
rather  than  see  her  wedded  to  one  with  liberal  —  that  to  him 
meant  infidel  —  tendencies.  So  he  said  to  her,  — 

"  I  hope  it  will  all  turn  out  right,  Margaret ;  but  I  fear,  I 
fear.  The  best  thinkers  look  upon  our  minister  as  danger 
ously  tolerant  towards  error.  He  may  come  out  of  it ;  but, 
if  not,  it  must  not  be.  '  Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked  together 
with  unbelievers,'  saith  the  Lord.  So  I  charge  you  to  use 


THE    MINISTER   IN    HIS   WORK.  97 

what  influence  you  have  over  him,  to  keep  him  in  the  way 
of  sound  doctrine." 

Margaret  said  not  a  word  of  this  to  Mr.  Forrest,  but  only 
shut  it  up  as  a  pain  in  her  heart.  For,  while  she  loved  him 
devotedly,  she  also  idolized  her  father,  and  believed  thor 
oughly  in  his  opinions,  knowing  no  reason  why  she  should 
believe  otherwise.  While  not  lacking  in  intellect,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  having  more  than  usual  brain,  she  was  yet,  like 
most  women,  strongest  on  the  side  of  sentiment,  reverence, 
and  love.  She  was  not  even  familiar  with  theological  distinc 
tions,  having  no  taste  nor  training  that  way.  If  she  had  seen 
a  heresy,  she  would  hardly  have  known  it.  And  yet  she  was, 
by  inheritance  and  training,  thoroughly  and  strictly  ortho 
dox.  She  had  been  taught  that  all  honest  and  sound  think 
ing  was  the  same.  So,  in  her  heart,  she  resented  the  impu 
tation  against  Mark,  as  though  his  moral  character  or  his 
mental  ability  had  been  impugned.  If  it  were  so,  she  could 
not  love  him  less,  but  she  would  pity,  and  try  to  save. 

But  Mr.  Forrest  knew  nothing  of  these  things ;  and,  for 
the  time,  he  had  flung  his  doubts  and  troubles  aside. 

As  the  weather  grew  cold,  the  religious  fervor  of  the 
churches  grew  warm.  To  one  who  regards  the  natural  phi 
losophy  of  religious  excitement  and  revival  work,  there  is 
nothing  strange  in  the  fact  that  all  revivals  occur  in  the  win 
ter,  and  that  they  are  most  marked  in  times  of  popular  de 
pression  ;  but  from  the  supernatural  standpoint  it  is  a  little 
puzzling  to  see  why  God  doesn't  "  save  souls  "in  the  sum 
mer,  and  to  trace  the  relation  between  the  Holy  Ghost  and 
distress  in  the  money-market. 


98  BLUFFTON. 

But  the  time  for  the  annual  revival  had  come,  and  the 
churches  set  their  machinery  in  motion.  Mr.  Forrest  had 
no  sympathy  with  what  a  famous  orthodox  professor  once 
called  "  importing  the  Holy  Ghost ;  "  believing,  as  he  often 
said,  that  if  God  were  not  always  present,  and  ready  to  help 
and  save  men  from  sin,  then  there  wasn't  any  God. 

So  he  organized  his  work  after  a  different  fashion.  He 
believed  in  a  present,  living,  loving  God,  who,  any  day  or 
hour,  was  ready  to  help  any  man,  high  or  low,  who  was 
ready  to  help  himself.  He  believed  in  repentance  and  con 
version  as  the  manly  recognition  of  evil  in  the  life,  and  a 
resolute  turning-away  from  that  evil.  He  believed  in  the 
church  as  the  banding  together  of  true  men  for  mutual 
religious  help,  and  the  purification  and  uplifting  of  society ; 
and  in  this  spirit  he  labored.  He  saw  no  reason  why  men 
should  not  pay  special  and  prolonged  attention  to  these 
high  matters  of  character,  as  well  as  to  the  work  of  carrying 
a  political  campaign. 

Thus  every  evening,  week  after  week,  he  spoke  from  his 
heart  to  a  church  full  of  attentive  but  rational  and  calm 
hearers.  He  labored  to  persuade  men  through  their  convic 
tions  ;  naturally  enough  claiming,  that,  since  men  had  brains, 
doubtless  the  Lord  intended  that  they  should  use  them  con 
cerning  these  grave  affairs.  Mr.  Smiley  was  very  much 
troubled  at  the  class  of  men  that  came  and  listened ;  and  he 
was  more  troubled  still,  when  they  said  that  Mr.  Forrest 
talked  sense,  and  they  were  ready  to  be  his  kind  of  Chjis- 
tians.  Even  old  Uncle  Zeke  came  in,  and  dropped  down  on 
a  back  seat,  and  listened  with  open  mouth,  as  though  a  new 
prophet  had  come. 


THE   MINISTER   IN    HIS   WORK.  99 

Mr.  Smiley  put  his  arm  through  the  arm  of  Deacon 
Putney,  as  they  left  the  door  of  the  church  to  go  home 
one  evening,  and  said,  — 

"  Deacon,  what  do  you  think  of  the  way  things  are  going 
on?" 

"  Well,"  said  the  deacon  cautiously,  for  he  was  not  sure 
yet  what  others  thought,  "  I  have  my  times  of  hardly  know- 
in'  "  —  as  though  he  ever  had  any  other  times':  "what  do 
you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think  this,"  said  he,  with  great  and  unctuous  positive- 
ness  :  "  that,  when  the  unregenerate  like  a  minister  of  the 
gospel,  there  is  something  wrong.  '  The  natural  heart  is  en 
mity  against  God  : '  and,  when  the  vital  gospel  is  preached, 
the  natural  heart  rebels.  It  don't  look  well  to  see  lawyers 
and  doctors,  and  so  many  moral  men,  present  and  approving. 
If  they  were  on  their  knees  and  in  tears,  it  would  be  an 
other  thing.  But  they  simply  listen  and  approve,  and  say, 
'  That  is  reasonable  and  right,  and  we  ought  to  do  it.'  That 
ain't  much  like  the  preaching  of  Nettleton  and  Finney." 

"  Waal,"  broke  in  Uncle  Zeke,  who  had  come  up  behind 
on  the  sidewalk,  and  caught  the  last  words,  "  what  would  ye 
like?  ter  hev'em  say  they  don't  like  it,  and  won't  do  it? 
Now,  /  call  that  preachin'  a  nat'ral  and  sensible  religion. 
I'd  like  ter  be  that  kin'  o'  Christian  myself." 

"  Yes  :  that  is  the  self-righteousness  of  a  sinful  heart,"  said 
Mr.  Smiley.  "  The  real  gospel  isn't  natural,  and  men  ought 
not  to  like  it.  Their  stubborn  wills  should  be  broken,  and 
they  prostrated  before  the  just  wrath  of  an  angry  God." 

"  I  don't  go  much  fer  breakin'  folks's  wills,"  said  Uncle 


IOO  BLUFFTON. 

Zeke.  "Break  yer  mainspring,  and  then  'spect  yer  watch 
ter  make  time." 

But  as  Mr.  Forrest  was  making  an  undoubted  success  of 
his  sensible  and  natural  gospel,  and  as  there  was  a  pros 
pect  of  a  large  addition  of  paying  members  to  the  church, 
the  scruples  gave  way  for  the  time,  and  he  was  allowed  to 
"build  up  Zion  "  in  his  own  way.  For  cavillers  have  some 
times  noted  the  apparent  fact,  that  the  meshes  of  the  sieve 
through  which  candidates  for  admission  to  the  church  are 
sifted  have  a  somewhat  peculiar  way  of  expanding,  and  let 
ting  large  but  wealthy  and  respectable  sinners  through,  while 
they  automatically  contract  at  the  approach  of  social  insig 
nificance  or  questionable  poverty. 

At  the  other  churches  the  usual  drama  was  played.  Mr. 
Forrest,  one  night  at  the  close  of  his  own  service,  stepped  in 

at  the church,  to  see  the  explanation  of  the  strange 

hullabaloo  that  he  heard.  He  knew  they  were  sometimes 
noisy;  but  he  thought  something  really  unusual  must  this 
time  have  occurred.  As  he  entered,  a  scene  broke  on  him 
to  which  only  the  combined  pencils  of  Dore"  and  Hogarth 
could  have  done  justice. 

The  minister  stood  inside  the  "  altar."  He  had  preached 
a  sermon  of  great  "unction,"  and  wrought  the  people  up  to  a 
pitch  of  intense  excitement.  His  text  had  been,  "  How  can 
ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell?"  He  had  now  come  out 
of  and  before  the  pulpit,  and  was  leading  the  "  conference- 
meeting,"  and  trying  to  gather  in  the  fruits  of  his  sermon. 
He  stood  with  a  glowing  and  exultant  face,  rubbing  and 
occasionally  clapping  his  hands,  and  now  and  again  —  when 


THE    MINISTER    IN    HIS    WORK.  IOI 

there  was  any  appearance  of  lulling  into  quiet  —  shout 
ing,  "  Glory  !  "  "  Hallelujah  !  "  "  That's  good,  brethren  ! " 
"  Praise  the  Lord  !  "  and  other  such  phrases,  to  whip  on  the 
rushing  excitement.  He  had  just  called  on  brother  Baker  to 
pray.  The  said  brother  happened  to  be  in  the  back  part  of 
the  house,  and  near  to  Mr.  Forrest,  who  was  by  the  door. 
The  hubbub  did  not  stop,  nor  did  the  minister  even  sit  down 
or  kneel.  He  seemed  to  be  overlooking  the  field  of  action, 
like  a  general  from  a  rising  ground  watching  the  progress  of 
a  battle.  The  irreverence  of  the  whole  thing  to  Mr.  Forrest 
was  such  as  to  fill  him  with  a  shocking  sense  of  disgust. 
Meantime  brother  Baker  dropped  on  his  knees,  and  began 
in  so  low  a  tone,  that,  in  the  general  confusion,  he  could  not 
be  heard  two  pews  away.  Mr.  Forrest  caught  his  opening 
sentences,  — 

"  O  Lord  !  we  would  not  persume  ter  dictate,  but  we 
would  humbly  segest  the  perpriety  of  havin'  a  small  bit  of  a 
revival  in  this  place." 

His  voice  went  on  rising  and  swaying  until  he  fairly 
shrieked  and  screamed  in  his  vehemence,  — 

"  It  is  time  for  thee,  O  Lord,  to  work  !  " 

And  now  his  yell  —  for  it  was  nothing  less  —  shrilled  out 
above  all  the  tumult ;  and  though  two  or  three  volunteers  in 
other  parts  of  the  house  had  also  begun  praying  at  the  same 
time,  on  their  own  account,  he  could  still  be  heard  above 
them  all.  He  now  gasped  for  breath :  his  hands  clutched 
the  seat,  and  the  perspiration  rolled  from  his  forehead. 
Each  separate  word  was  a  gasp ;  and  between  them  were 
interjected  syllables,  on  which  he  seemed  to  rest  for  an 
instant  while  catching  his  breath  for  a  still  higher  scream. 


IO2  BLUFFTON. 

"  O  God-er,  poor-er  sinners-er  droppin'  into  hell-er ! 
Shake-er  'em,  Lord-er,  and  wake  'em  up-er,  to  see-er  the 
gulf-er  under  their  feet-er  !  " 

And,  when  no  more  breath  was  left,  with  one  wild  shriek 
he  gasped  out  "  Amen  !  "  and  rolled  over  on  the  floor. 
And  around  swelled  the  chorus,  "Amen  !  "  "Glory  to  God  ! " 
"  Glory,  glory,  glory  !  " 

Then  one  of  the  brethren  who  recognized  Mr.  Forrest,  and 
wanted  him  to  understand  the  spiritual  artillery  with  which 
his  church  was  armed,  touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  and, 
pointing  to  brother  Baker's  unconscious  form,  said,  — 

"  Oh,  but  he's  a  mighty  man  at  the  throne  of  grace  !  —  a 
powerful  wrastler  with  the  Lord  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  another,  "  he  jest  storms  the  kingdom,  and 
brings  the  marcy  down." 

"  And,"  remarked  a  third,  "  he's  a  wonderful  pious  man. 
The  trances  and  visions  the  Lord  hez  granted  him  is  re 
markable.  He  always  goes  off  arter  prayer." 

Mr.  Forrest  inwardly  thought  that  most  people  did  "go 
off"  when  they'd  used  up  their  limited  supply  of  breath,  but 
he  was  too  polite  to  say  it. 

But  now  their  attention  was  turned  another  way.  By  this 
time  several  hysterical  women  were  crawling  about  the  aisles 
on  their  hands  and  knees ;  and  several  more  were  laid  away 
on  the  seats,  having  shouted  till  they  too  had  "  gone  off,"  — 
out  of  their  senses  in  reality,  but  that  here  was  supposed  to 
mean  into  heaven.  One  enthusiastic  brother  now  grasped 
with  both  hands  what  he  typically  called  the  "  horns  of  the 
altar,"  but  which,  in  reality,  was  the  railing  around  the  pul- 


THE    MINISTER    IN    HIS    WORK.  IO3 

pit ;  and,  as  he  pulled  and  exhorted,  a  section  of  the  "  altar  " 
gave  way.  He  now  seized  one  of  the  round,  upright  pieces, 
—  about  the  length  and  size  of  an  ordinary  cane,  —  and 
while  he  shouted, — 

"  Flee,  sinners  !  flee  for  your  lives  into  the  ark  !  The 
storm  is  comin' :  hasten  while  yet  the  door  stands  open  ! "  — 
he  rushed  wildly  back  and  forth,  punching  in  the  ribs  with 
his  stick  the  brothers  and  sisters  that  seemed  indisposed 
to  hasten. 

Mr.  Forrest  had  now  got  all  of  this  kind  of  religion  he 
could  bear.  As  he  went  out,  he  heard  a  drunken  teamster, 
who  had  run  his  wheel  against  a  lamp-post,  swearing  at  his 
horse. 

"Well,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  don't  know  which  is  worse, 
the  religious  profanity  inside,  or  the  irreligious  out.  What 
strange  ideas  they  must  have  about  God,  and  the  way  to 
please  him ! " 


IO4  BLUFFTON. 


XI. 

UNDERGROUND   RUMBLINGS. 

MRS.  GREY  was  a  sore  puzzle  to  the  good  church 
people  of  Bluffton.  She  was  a  widow  of  about  forty- 
five  years  of  age,  well-preserved,  and  with  a  face  singularly 
sweet  and  refined.  Her  hair,  silvered  as  much  with  sorrow 
as  with  age,  formed  a  saintly  aureole  about  a  face  that  pure 
thoughts,  noble  aspirations,  and  kindly  deeds  had  sculptured 
into  a  more  than  fleshly  beauty.  She  had  come  to  Bluffton 
a  few  years  before,  hoping  that  a  Western  air  would,  if  not 
restore  to  health,  at  least  prolong  the  life  of,  a  husband 
whose  vitality  was  gradually  burning  away  in  the  slow  fire  of 
consumption.  She  had  watched  and  cared  for  him  tenderly 
to  the  last.  But  when  he  had  faded  out  of  sight,  instead 
of  shutting  herself  up,  and  brooding  over  her  own  grief  in 
the  insidious  selfishness  of  sorrow,  she  had  said  to  Mr.  For 
rest,  as  he  called  upon  her  after  the  funeral,  — 

"  I  mustn't  permit  myself  to  brood  here  alone.  I  can't 
endure  to  sit  still  and  only  think  of  the  past :  it  will  distract 
me.  Tell  me  what  I  can  do.  I  can  do  no  more  for  him. 
I  can  help  the  living,  if  I  can't  the  dead." 

And   so  she  became  a  ministering  angel.     Having  been 


UNDERGROUND    RUMBLINGS.  10$ 

"  made  perfect  through  suffering,"  she  carried  with  her  the 
power  of  a  genuine  sympathy,  that  all  the  sick  and  poor 
could  feel  as  a  babe  feels  its  mother's  care,  though  they 
could  not  tell  the  tear-watered  root  from  which  it  sprung. 
No  one  could  help  loving  her.  She  was  first  in  all  the  city 
work  of  benevolence ;  and  her  shadow,  like  Peter's  in  the 
Acts,  was  a  shadow  of  healing  wherever  it  fell. 

Still,  in  spite  of  all  this,  —  nay,  because  of  all  this,  —  she 
sorely  troubled  the  church.  Logically  she  ought  to  have 
been  the  worst  woman  in  town.  For — as  was  whispered 
about,  and  as  was  really  true  —  she  was  an  infidel;  that  is, 
she  utterly  rejected  their  church  creeds  and  ways.  It  is  well 
to  note  that  the  word  "  infidel "  is  one  whose  definition  shifts 
according  to  geographical,  social,  and  theological  latitudes. 
Christians  are  all  infidels  to  the  Turks.  Socrates  was  an  infi 
del  and  an  atheist  in  Athens.  Galileo  and  Newton  were  infi 
dels  ;  and  Darwin  is  still.  So  Mrs.  Grey,  though  faithful  to 
all  known  essential  laws  of  God  and  man,  was  yet  an  "  infi 
del  "  in  Bluffton.  Let  us  see  some  of  her  "  strange  peculiari 
ties." 

She  would  not  go  to  church  regularly,  for  the  sake  of 
going,  and  as  a  religious  duty.  She  said,  — 

"  I  go  to  church  to  be  fed.  If  there  is  nothing  on  the 
table,  it  seems  to  me  a  waste  of  time  to  sit  down  to  it.  I'll 
go  to  my  own  cupboard  for  crumbs." 

And  so  she  would  search  her  small  library  for  what  she 
thought  profitable  as  Sunday  reading.  She  was  not  ecclesi 
astically  strict  on  Sunday.  She  would  even  sew,  if  she 
found  some  poor  family  was  suffering  for  work  done.  This 


IO6  BLUFFTON. 

strange  conduct  she  justified  by  references  to  the  ass  in  the 
pit  in  the  Gospels,  and  the  beasts  led  away  to  watering.  She 
also  said  there  was  no  command  in  the  Bible,  and  no  ground 
in  history,  for  keeping  any  such  idle  Sunday  as  they  claimed 
she  ought.  And,  because  they  could  not  contradict  her, 
they  were  all  the  more  angry,  and  louder  in  their  abuse. 
She  did  not  believe  in  prayer  either,  as  popularly  under 
stood.  She  said  she  did  not  believe  in  teasing  God ;  and 
she  thought  it  an  imputation  on  his  goodness  to  suppose  he 
needed  urging,  and  an  insult  to  his  intelligence  to  suppose 
he  needed  information.  Prayer  with  her  was  only  heart- 
communion,  and  was  just  as  good  when  silent. 

No  wonder  they  called  her  names.  It  was  the  instinct  of 
self-defence.  For  indeed  the  churches,  as  organized  in 
Bluffton,  had  no  excuse  for  existence  if  her  ideas  were 
true. 

This,  then,  was  the  character  that  was  "gone  over  "  in  the 
gossip  of  the  sewing-circle. 

"  Well,  now,  I  think  it's  jest  a  shame,  Mis  Howett,"  broke 
out  old  Mrs.  Buck,  "  fer  you  to  let  your  Looizer  go  'round 
with  Mis  Grey  so  much." 

"  Pray  tell  me  why,"  said  Mrs.  Howitt.  Mrs.  Howitt  was 
a  quiet,  firm,  ladylike  woman,  who,  while  evangelical, 
believed  that  a  tree  might  safely  be  judged  by  its  fruits; 
and  she  preferred  a  good  apple  grown"  on  a  heterodox  tree 
to  a  rotten  one  whose  trunk  was  orthodox. 

"Why?  "  said  Aunt  Sally  Rawson,  "  'pears  as  ef  it  needn't 
take  long  to  know  why.  Don't  the  whole  town  know  she's 
'n  infidel?" 


UNDERGROUND    RUMBLINGS.  IO/ 

"Yis;  an'  I  think  she's  just  splendid  !"  broke  in  the  ir 
repressible  Jane  Ann  Rawson. 

"Jane  Ann,  speak  when  you're  spoken  to,"  said  her 
mother.  "Her  insinuatin'  ways  is  even  leadin'  my  darter 
astray  from  the  teachin's  I  give  her  in  her  childhood.  That's 
what  comes  of  sich  examples  as  you  set,  Mis  Howitt.  Jane 
Ann  sees  Looizer  with  her,  an'  she  follers  on." 

"But,"  said  Mrs.  Howitt,  "what  do  you  mean  by  her 
being  an  infidel  ?  " 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Buck,  "  she  don't  read  the  Bible ; 
an'  my  old  man  said  he  saw  a  book  onct  on  her  table,  that 
he  thought  looked  like  Tom  Paine,  —  though  I  wouldn't 
hev  you  think  he  ever  saw  Tom  Paine." 

"  An'  that  ain't  all,"  said  Aunt  Sally :  "  she  don't  go  to 
church ;  an'  she  scoffs  at  prayer-meetings." 

"Well,  I  don't  care  'f  she  doos,"  burst  out  Jane  Ann 
again  :  "  I  think  prayer-meetin's  is  just  horrid  !  " 

"  Why,  Jane  Ann  Rawson  !  I  should  think  you'd  be  afeard 
the  lightnin'  'd  strike  you.  Don't  you  ever  let  me  hear  you 
speak  like  that  agin." 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Howitt,  "  while  I  am  sorry  Mrs.  Grey 
doesn't  look  at  some  things  as  we  do,  we  must  all  confess 
that  her  life  is  a  rebuke  to  the  Christianity  of  all  of  us." 

"  Well,  that  won't  never  do,"  said  Mrs.  Buck  :  "  I  think  it's 
all  the  worse.  'Twould  be  better  for  the  community  'f  she 
was  a  bad  woman.  When  Satan  comes  as  a  angel  o'  light 
then  look  out  for  'im,  I  say." 

"Anyhow,"  said  Jane  Ann,  "there's  some  folks  in  town 
that  talks  'bout  the  '  higher  life,'  claims  to  be  '  sanctified,' 


IO8  BLUFFTON. 

and  says  they  hain't  sinned  fer  a  year,  that  would  be  might 
ily  improved  to  git  a  little  o'  her  goodness." 

"Jane  Ann,  who  you  squintin'  at  now?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Buck,  with  a  severe  tone  of  voice ;  for  she  herself  was  among 
those  who  had  "  attained  perfection." 

"  You  needn't  jump  till  yer  hit,"  said  Jane  Ann,  not  over- 
respectfully.  "  I  don't  mean  you.  I  do  mean  the  Hinmans, 
though." 

"  Why,  what  o'  them,  I  sh'd  like  to  know  ?  Mis  Hinman's 
a  saint.  She  don't  do  nothin'  from  mornin'  to  night  "cept 
go  to  meetin',  an'  pray." 

"  Yis,  she  do,  though,"  said  Jane  Ann. 

"What?" 

"  Why,  nothin',  only  spin  street-yarn,  and  let  th'  old  man 
swear  coz  she  hain't  got  dinner  ready ;  and  Jim  and  Jake  go 
cussin'  round,  out  o'  school,  and  their  trousers  all  rags." 

"  And  Mrs.  Hinman's  brother,  another  '  sanctified '  one," 
said  Mrs.  Howitt,  "and  who  says  he  hasn't  had  a  sinful 
thought  for  six  months,  —  he  rents  his  stores  for  grog-shops, 
and  has  an  agent  run  a  house  of  bad  repute  for  him.  Now, 
ladies,  if  this  is  religion,  I  am  seriously  thinking  of  turning 
Mrs.  Grey's  kind  of  infidel." 

"  Well,  'f  I  ever  did  hear  sich  talk  !  and  from  a  church- 
member  too  !  No  wonder  your  Looizer  hain't  got  religion. 
Might  know  the  Lord  'd  pass  by  a  house  where  sich  senti 
ments  is  believed  in,"  said  Mrs.  Buck. 

"  When  the  Lord  does  come  to  my  house,  as  you  say, 
Mrs.  Buck,"  remarked  Mrs.  Howitt,  "  I  hope  he'll  not  make 
my  Louisa  such  a  Christian  as  the  Hinmans  are." 


UNDERGROUND    RUMBLINGS.  ICX) 

"  Mr.  Forrest  thinks  Mis  Grey's  as  good's  a  Christian, 
anyway,"  said  Jane  Ann. 

"Yis,  I've  no  doubt  he  doos,"  tartly  replied  Mrs.  Buck, 
"  and  not  much  to  his  credit,  neither.  He's  too  much  taken 
with  Mis  Grey's  infidel  notions,  'cordin'  to  my  thinkin'." 

"That's  where  ye're  right,  Mis  Buck,"  said  aunt  Sally. 
"  On'y  last  sabbath  he  had  a  hit  agin  people's  goin  to  meet- 
in'  reg'lar ;  said  some  folks  't  went  to  meetin'  so  much  'd 
better  stay  to  home,  and  look  after  their  fam'lies,  do  their 
duties,  and  pay  their  debts." 

"  Now,  I  call  that  infidel,"  said  Mrs.  Buck.  "  When  a 
minister  of  the  gospel  gits  to  preachin'  morality,  then,  I  say, 
it  looks  like  Unitarianism.  I  said  to  my  old  man  on'y  last 
Monday,  sez  I,  '  John,'  sez  I, '  all  this  morality's  well  enough  ; 
but  when  I  go  to  church,  I  go  t'  enjoy  religion,  an'  I  don't 
want  no  cold  hashin'  up  er  duties  and  sich  stuff.'  " 

"But  are  there  no  duties  and  morality  in  religion?"  in 
quired  Mrs.  Howitt.  "  For  my  part,  I  only  wish  Mr.  Forrest 
could  make  all  the  church  live  as  well  as  Mrs.  Grey  does." 

Just  at  this  point  the  door  of  the  church-vestry  opened, 
and  in  walked  Mrs.  Grey  and  Mr.  Forrest.  They  had  not 
come  together,  but  had  met  at  the  street-corner.  They 
looked  about  for  a  moment,  and  saw  the  usual  scene.  Here 
one  or  two  ladies  were  standing  at  tables,  cutting  out  gar 
ments  ;  and,  scattered  in  groups  here  and  there,  many  others 
were  sewing  and  chatting.  Tongue  and  needle  generally 
went  together ;  but  over  at  one  side  they  noticed  that  the 
needles  had  stopped,  and  the  tongues  ran  on  alone.  This 
was  the  place  where  was  seated  the  little  knot  whose  rather 
interesting  conversation  we  have  been  overhearing. 


I  IO  BLUFFTON. 

The  new-comers,  recognizing  Mrs.  Hovvitt,  stepped  over  to 
speak  with  her.  All  the  rest  also  jumped  to  their  feet  with 
the  most  profuse  demonstrations  of  pleasure. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Forrest,  so  glad  to  see  you  ! "  said  Mrs.  Buck. 

"  Yis  ;  speak  of  angels,  and  they  allus  shows  theirselves," 
exclaimed  aunt  Sally  Rawson.  "  We's  jest  sayin'  how  the 
Lord  was  prosperin'  his  work,  and  buildin'  up  the  walls  of 
Zion.  That  sermon  o'  your'n  last  sabbath  was  jest  bread 
from  heaven." 

"  And,  Mis  Grey,  how  do  you  do  ?  It's  a  long  time  sence 
we  had  the  privilege  o'  seein'  you  't  our  circle,"  said  Mrs. 
Buck,  as  though  she  really  meant  it. 

"We  was  jest  a-sayin',  Mis  Grey,"  remarked  aunt  Sally, 
"how  much  the  young  gals  o'  the  s'iety  thinks  o'  you."  She 
framed  the  sentence  ingeniously,  so  as  not  formally  to  lie, 
while  getting  the  advantage  of  the  reality,  —  a  popular  de 
vice  by  which  many  suppose  they  keep  on  the  side  of  truth. 
Neither  Mr.  Forrest  nor  Mrs.  Grey  said  any  thing  worth 
our  recording.  They  talked  pleasantly  and  politely  for  a 
few  moments,  and  then  passed  on  to  greet  other  acquaint 
ances.  As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing,  Jane  Ann  ex 
ploded. 

"  If  lyin's  a  proof  of  people's  bein'  '  perfected '  and  '  sanc 
tified,'  then  I  know  lots  o'  folks  that's  in  danger  o'  bein' 
translated  'fore  they  knows  it,"  said  she,  in  a  tone  of  biting 
sarcasm. 

Mrs.  Buck's  hands  went  up  in  horror. 

"  Sich  impidence  and  sich  impiety  I  never  did  hear,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  This  is  what  comes  o'  Mis  Grey's  influence, 
an'  Mr.  Forrest's  lettin'  down  the  tone  o'  his  preachin'." 


UNDERGROUND    RUMBLINGS.  Ill 

"  Jane  Ann,  you  put  on  yer  things,  and  go  right  straight 
home.  I'll  have  a  season  o'  prayer  with  you  'fore  you  go  to 
bed.  I  wonder  the  Lord  don't  smite  ye  for  sech  talk,"  said 
her  mother. 

"  'F  the  Lord  should  go  to  smitin',  some  other  folks  might 
git  hit,"  muttered  Jane  Ann  under  her  breath,  as  she  de 
parted. 

Mrs.  Howitt  now  left  them ;  and  they  had  an  edifying  talk 
on  the  condition  of  parish  affairs,  garnished  with  sundry 
choice  bits  of  scandal  that  seemed  equally  as  dear  to  them 
as  did  the  state  of  religion. 

When  they  had  gone  the  rounds,  Mrs.  Grey  said  to  Mr. 
Forrest,  — 

"  Are  you  engaged  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"Not  so  but  that  I  am  at  your  disposal,"  said  he. 

"  If,  then,  you  have  no  objection,  I'd  like  a  little  talk  with 
you." 

"  Will  you  go  to  my  study?  " 

"  No,  if  you  please.  You  come  up  to  my  house.  It  will 
do  you  good  to  get  out  of  your  parish  atmosphere  for  a 
little." 


112  BLUFFTON. 


XII. 
MR.   FORREST  AND   MRS.   GREY. 

MRS.  GREY'S  small,  neat  house  was  on  a  slope  of  the 
hill  overlooking  the  town.  From  the  little  bay- 
window  where  Mr.  Forrest  sat  in  a  cosey  rocking-chair,  he 
could  see  the  river  on  one  side,  the  uneven  but  beautiful 
and  tree-crowned  ranges  of  hills  back  of  the  city,  while  the 
city  itself  made  a  picture  in  the  foreground. 

"There,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  pulling  the  curtains  clear  up  so 
as  to  give  an  unobstructed  view  in  all  directions,  "  we  are 
here  raised,  at  least  in  space,  above  the  petty  superstitions, 
the  unreasoning  traditions  and  narrow  views,  of  the  thought 
less  mass  that  makes  up  the  town  below  us." 

"  If  elevation  in  space,"  said  he,  "  was  only  intellectual 
elevation,  I  would  certainly  try  to  get  them  all  to  build  on 
the  hills." 

"  But,"  said  she,  "  you'll  forgive  me  for  speaking  plainly ; 
you  know  me  well  enough  now  to  understand  me :  do  you 
think  you  are  doing  all  you  might  to  help  them?  " 

"  I  mean  to.     Where  do  I  fail  ?  " 

"  Will  you  pardon  me  if  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"Certainly.     Why  not?" 


MR.    FORREST    AND    MRS.    GREY.  1 13 

"Well,  I  believe  you  will.  If  I  didn't  believe  in  you,  I 
shouldn't  talk  at  all.  And  you  know  I  look  upon  you  as  a 
sort  of  boy  of  mine.  And  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  be 
where  you  are." 

"  But  you  said  you'd  tell  me  where  I  failed." 

"  I  think,"  said  she  slowly,  and  looking  him  full  in  the 
face,  "that  you  are  not  quite  frank  enough." 

"  You  don't  think  I  deceive  my  people  ?  " 

"  Not  consciously  or  purposely,  by  any  manner  of  means ; 
but,  really,  yes." 

"  Pray  tell  me  wherein." 

"Well,  the  atmosphere  you  breathe  is  not  a  natural, 
healthy  one." 

"  Explain." 

"  Why,  you  are  not  orthodox.  I  feel  it  every  time  I  hear 
you  preach.  That  in  you  which  touches  and  moves  men  is 
your  heresy.  Of  course  I  rejoice  in  it ;  and  I  hope 
much  for  you  when  you  once  get  where  you  belong.  But 
you  ought  to  be  orthodox,  or  you  ought  not  to  hold  your 
position.  Every  time  you  rise  and  stand  in  your  pulpit, 
your  people  think  that  means  that  you  believe  things  that  I 
know  you  are  too  intelligent  to  hold." 

"Perhaps  I'm  not  so  intelligent  as  you  suppose.  So  I 
may  believe  more  than  you  think  I  do." 

"  May  I  catechise  you  a  little  ?  " 

"Nothing  would  suit  me  better.  I  like  to  talk  these 
things  over ;  and  you  know  me  well  enough  to  know  that 
I  haven't  any  beliefs  I  prize  so  much  as  I  do  the  simple 
truth." 


1 14  BLUFFTON. 

"  I  believe  it,  and  therein  is  my  hope  for  you.  If  it  were 
not  so,  you  would  not  have  dared  to  have  preached  what 
you  already  have." 

"  Do  you  think  I've  really  gone  far  out  of  the  way  of 
*  sound  doctrine  '  ?  I  haven't  thought  of  being  brave,  for  I 
have  only  spoken  what  seemed  to  me  simple  reason  and 
truth." 

"That's  your  offence.  They  don't  want  you  to  preach 
reason.  I'm  aware  that  the  majority  of  the  church  like  you, 
for  they  do  not  think  deeply  on  theological  points.  But  the 
leaders  don't ;  and,  as  sure  as  the  world,  there's  trouble 
brewing.  Your  being  my  friend  is  a  crime.  That  you 
study  and  read  science,  is  against  you.  Things  are  not 
going  as  they  are  now  for  a  great  while." 

"Well,  let  it  come  if  it  must.     But  the  catechism?  " 

"All  right,  then.  Last  Sunday  you  closed  your  prayer 
with  the  words,  '  For  Christ's  sake.'  Why  ?  " 

Mr.  Forrest  thought  a  moment,  and  then  answered  frank 
ly,  "  Training  and  habit,  perhaps ;  for  I  am  aware  the  phrase 
has  no  New-Testament  authority." 

"  And  did  you  never  think  the  implication  is  almost  im 
piety?  It  is  a  figure  borrowed  from  the  habits  of  Oriental 
courts  and  despots.  When  the  sultan  will  not  grant  a  favor 
for  the  suppliant's  need's  sake,  or  because  it  is  beneficent  or 
right,  still  he  sometimes  will  for  the  sake  of  a  court  favorite. 
Do  you  think  God  is  that  kind  of  a  being?  " 

"  I  fear  I  never  thought  of  its  implication  before." 

"  Well,  do  you  think  Christ  has  any  thing  to  do  with  our 
prayers,  any  way?" 


MR.    FORREST    AND    MRS.    GREY.  115 

"  Only  this  :  I  do  think  he  is  the  manifestation  of  that 
character  and  disposition,  on  the  part  of  God,  that  invites  our 
prayers." 

"  You  do  not,  then,  hold  that  Christ's  death  as  a  sacrifice 
has  any  thing  to  do  with  God's  ability  or  willingness  to  hear 
prayer,  and  forgive  sin?" 

"  Indeed  I  do  not.  That  was  only  an  expression  of  an 
eternal  willingness.  I  could  not  love  a  being  whose  nature 
it  was  not  to  save." 

"  You  are  aware,  I  suppose,  that  these  views  are  not  quite 
consistent  with  the  old  ideas  of  the  Trinity?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  for  that,  I  confess  I  don't  much  care.  I'm 
not  the  only  orthodox  minister  who  doesn't  believe  the  Trin 
ity." 

"  How  do  you  hold  things,  then? " 

"  Well,  something  like  this.  The  doctrine  of  the  Trinity 
is  utterly  meaningless.  I  can't  even  understand  its  terms." 

"  Perhaps  I'm  not  theologian  enough  to  understand  what 
those  terms  are." 

"  These,  then  :  I  am  expected  to  believe  that  God  is  three 
persons,  and  am  told  in  the  same  breath  that  the  word  '  per 
son  '  doesn't  mean  person,  but  something  else.  I  ask  what 
else,  and  nobody  knows.  Then  these  three  persons  are  only 
one  person.  I  have  asked  a  great  many  laymen  to  tell  me 
what  the  Trinity  is,  and  I  have  never  found  one  who  could 
do  it.  They  always  give  me  Unitarianism  in  some  form,  or 
Tritheism.  And  I  don't  wonder." 

"What,  then,  do  you  believe?"  said  she. 

"  I  believe  in  the  universal  and  omnipresent  God,  who  is 


1 1 6  BLUFFTON. 

a  spirit.  That's  the  first  person.  Christ,  to  me,  is  only  a 
manifestation  of  this  unseen  spirit  in  the  sphere  of  humanity. 
The  Father,  as  a  separate  personality,  nothing." 

"  You  say  you  are  not  the  only  orthodox  minister  who 
holds  such  views? " 

"  I  have  a  good  deal  of  company.  It  isn't  much  wonder 
if  many  people  are  a  little  mixed  over  what  nobody  can  un 
derstand." 

"But  how  can  you  claim  to  be  orthodox?" 

"Why,"  said  he,  "I  follow  Jesus.  He  never  claimed  to 
be  God." 

"  How  about  '  I  and  my  Father  are  one '  ?  " 

"  But  right  in  immediate  connection  he  prays  that  the  dis 
ciples  may  be  one  with  him  as  he  is  one  with  the  Father.  If 
one  verse  makes  him  God,  the  other  makes  all  the  disciples 
God  as  well.  It  proves  too  much." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  it.  But  what  of  the  first 
chapter  of  John?  Do  you  think  that  teaches  it?  " 

"  I  used  to,  but  I  know  better  now.  Even  if  it  did,  it 
would  only  prove  that  the  unknown  author  of  John  believed 
it,  not  that  it  is  true.  It  is  only  the  opinion  of  the  writer, 
at  best.  But  it  doesn't  mean  that." 

"What  does  it  mean?" 

"  It  means,"  said  he,  "  a  mystical,  metaphysical  notion  of 
the  Gnostics.  They  held  to  all  sorts  of  gods  and  semi-gods, 
aeons  and  emanations,  to  bridge  over  the  gulf  between  God 
and  matter.  The  New  Testament's  later  documents  are  full 
of  the  technical  terms  of  Gnosticism,  showing  how  much 
that  philosophy  influenced  the  writers." 


MR.    FORREST    AND    MRS.    GREY.  II/ 

"  But  they  say  that  Christ  is  spoken  of  as  the  creator  of 
the  world,  and  that  only  God  can  create." 

"  The  Gnostic  belief  of  the  writer  was  the  precise  opposite. 
This  sect  held  that  the  supreme  God  was  too  high  and  pure 
to  come  into  contact  with  matter,  and  so  did  not  and 
could  not  create  the  world.  They  taught  that  the  world  was 
created  by  a  being  they  called  the  Demi-urgus,  and  whom 
they  identified  with  Christ.  To  call  Christ  creator,  then,  was 
the  most  forcible  way  of  saying  he  was  not  God." 

"  The  genealogical  tables  of  the  Gospels  have  always  sur 
prised  me,  Mr.  Forrest." 

"  Well  they  might.  They  do  not  agree  with  each  other, 
nor  with  the  Old-Testament  tables ;  and,  since  they  trace 
Jesus  back  to  Joseph,  of  course  have  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  him  unless  Joseph  was  his  father." 

"  How  do  you  account,  then,  for  them  as  they  stand  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  they  are  part  of  an  older  tradition,  that  had  changed 
its  form  by  the  time  the  Gospels  came  into  their  present 
shape.  The  old  tradition  was,  that  Joseph  was  his  father, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost  his  mother." 

"  How  strange  !  " 

"No,  not  strange.  It  was  common  enough  in  ancient 
times  for  men  to  believe  in  superhuman  births,  where  either 
father  or  mother  was  divine." 

"  But  isn't  it  remarkable  that  we  know  no  more  of  the 
childhood  of  Jesus?  " 

"  I  think  not :  we  know  but  very  little  about  him  anyway. 
We  do  not  know  when  he  was  born,  nor  when  he  died.  The 
Gospels  disagree  as  to  the  length  of  his  ministry,  one  making 


Il8  BLUFFTON. 

it  three  years,  the  rest  one ;  and  John  seems  to  imply  that 
he  lived  till  he  was  on  toward  the  age  of  fifty.  But,  if  we 
had  known  all  about  his  childhood,  we  should  never  have 
had  the  dogma  of  the  incarnation.  There  must  be  mystery 
and  uncertainty  to  give  room  for  the  imagination  to  create 
myths." 

"  It  seems  so  strange  that  men  can  believe  that  God  was 
ever  born  as  a  man  !  " 

"  Yes,  just  think  of  it !  —  God  born  a  baby,  puling,  whin 
ing,  crying  in  the  arms  of  a  nurse ;  God  going  to  school,  and 
getting  his  lessons  ;  God  sitting  at  the  feet  of  quibbling,  hair 
splitting  rabbins  in  the  synagogue,  and  learning  his  own  law. 
It  seems  blasphemy  to  me  sometimes.  It  was  easy  enough 
to  think  such  childish  thoughts  when  men  thought  the  uni 
verse  was  only  a  little  three-story  house,  with  hell  for  cellar, 
and  heaven  for  upper  story.  God  could  then  come  down 
stairs,  and  see  what  was  going  on,  disguising  himself  in  a 
human  body.  But,  in  our  present  knowledge  of  the  universe, 
it  is  most  stupendous  absurdity  to  think  such  things." 

"But  these  ideas  are  not  altogether  ancient,  are  they?  " 

"  No  :  in  certain  grades  of  civilization  it  seems  easy  to  be 
lieve  such  -things.  Within  fifty  years  some  of  the  tribes  of 
India  have  deified,  and  are  now  worshipping,  an  English 
officer." 

"  But  you  just  referred  to  hell  as  the  '  cellar  '  of  the  old 
universe.  I  have  noticed  you  do  not  preach  it ;  and  this,  I 
understand,  is  one  ground  of  parish  complaint." 

"  This  is  a  horrible  subject  to  me,  Mrs.  Grey.  Oh,  what  a 
childhood  it  gave  me  !  However  beautiful  the  day  or  the 


MR.    FORREST    AND    MRS.    GREY. 

landscape,  or  however  joyous  the  plays,  this  haunting  horror 
used  to  come  to  blot  out  the  light,  and  make  me  tremble.  A 
blue  sky,  fields  full  of  flowers,  and  —  hell !  what  a  mixture  for 
childhood  !  And  if  ever,  during  boyhood,  there  was  a  fire,  a 
house  burnt,  you  cannot  imagine  what  I  suffered.  I  feared 
I  was  not  one  of  the  '  elect ; '  and  I  saw  myself  livid  and 
red-hot,  and  writhing  in  the  flames.  And  it  was  — forever  t 
Oh,  how  I  used  to  rush  home,  and  bury  my  face  in  the  bed 
clothes,  to  try  to  shut  out  the  inner  vision,  and  then  at  night 
cry  and  shiver  myself  to  sleep  !  " 

"When  did  you  cease  believing  it?  " 

"I  hardly  know  as  I  have  ceased  believing  it  yet,  in 
some  form.  My  views  have  changed  greatly  with  more 
study  and  thought,  since  I  came  to  Bluffton.  The  first  thing 
that  fairly  started  my  thinking  on  the  subject  was  a  tract  I 
once  came  across.  I  was  trained  as  a  child  to  think  Univer- 
salism  synonymous  with  every  thing  evil.  And,  indeed,  the 
old  form  of  Universalism  now  seems  to  me  the  height  of 
absurdity.  I  can't  believe  that  any  magic  at  death  can  make 
all  souls,  so  unlike  five  minutes  before,  equally  fit  for  heaven 
five  minutes  after." 

"  But  what  of  this  tract?  " 

"  I  got  hold  of  it  somehow,  and  read  it  in  my  study  in 
California.  What  an  agony  of  mind  I  went  through  !  I 
wanted  so  to  believe  it !  One  moment  I  would ;  and  then 
my  heart  burst  out  singing ;  and  all  the  world  seemed  to 
break  forth  in  glad  rejoicing  that  hell  was  no  more.  And 
then  I  dared  not  believe  it.  It  was  Satan  tempting  me.  I 
was  being  led  astray.  I  was  falling  over  into  an  abyss.  The 
mental  struggle  was  awful. 


I2O  BLUFFTON. 

"  But  though  I  did  not  accept  the  teaching  then,  for  fear 
I  was  going  astray,  it  had  started  thoughts  that  would  not 
rest.  I  felt  impelled  to  re-examine  the  grounds  of  the 
belief." 

"  Well,  what  have  you  found  ?  For,  though  the  teachings 
of  all  the  Bibles  in  the  world  couldn't  make  me  believe  it, 
yet  I  like  to  know  how  it  lies  in  other  thoughtful  minds." 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  have  gone  over  the  Bible  as  bearing 
on  the  subject;  and  I  am  surprised  to  find  how  large  a 
part  of  the  common  belief  is  based  on  ignorance,  mistransla 
tion,  and  change  in  the  meaning  of  words.  For  instance, 
there  isn't  a  trace  of  everlasting  punishment  in  the  Old  Tes 
tament.  Indeed,  the  Jews  had  no  fixed  or  clear  belief  in  a 
future  life  at  all.  It  was  a  late  growth,  and  largely  received 
from  the  Persians  at  the  time  of  the  captivity.  So  there  is 
not  one  single  place  in  the  Old  Testament  where  'hell' 
means  hell  as  the  word  is  used  to-day.  It  is  false  to  honesty 
and  the  Bible  itself,  to  let  the  word  stand  there.  And  then, 
leaving  out  repetitions  of  the  same  sayings  in  the  different 
Gospels,  there  are  no  more  than  six  places  in  the  New  Tes 
tament  where  the  word  '  hell '  ought  to  be  in  the  text,  even  if 
it  ought  to  be  there  at  all.  As  to  these  six,  it  is  simply 
begging  the  question  to  say  that  the  original  'Gehenna' 
means  what  we  mean  by  hell." 

"  But,  though  I  do  not  believe  it  any  the  more  for  that, 
it  seems  to  me  the  Bible  teaches  it.  It  says  everlasting 
punishment,  and  everlasting  life,  putting  the  two  on  the 
same  level." 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  no.    The  word,  aionios,  is  used 


MR.    FORREST    AND    MRS.    GREY.  121 

many  times  where  it  doesn't  and  can't  mean  everlasting. 
The  true  translation  is  eternal;  but  the  word  does  not  deter 
mine  the  duration,  referring  sometimes  rather  to  quality  and 
kind  than  quantity,  and  in  any  case  leaving  the  term  in 
definite." 

"  But  you  say  you  still  believe  it." 

"Not  everlasting:  I  cannot.  I  believe  in fu tu re  punish 
ment.  For  the  same  laws  of  right  and  wrong,  of  reward  and 
penalty,  are  everywhere.  Results,  good  or  bad,  inevitably 
attach  themselves  to  our  deeds,  and  must  do  so  always  and 
everywhere." 

"  Do  you  believe  man  is  too  good  to  be  punished  for 
ever?  " 

"  I'd  rather  say,  I  believe  he  is  not  oaa  enougn  to  be  pun 
ished  forever.  It  seems  monstrous  injustice.  No  man,  in  a 
long  life,  could  commit  crimes  enough  to  deserve  it." 

"  But  you  know  it  is  often  said,  that  the  man  will  keep  on 
sinning,  and  so  will  keep  on  suffering." 

"  Not  if  God  is  king,  and  can  have  his  own  way.  The 
worst  of  the  whole  doctrine  is  its  blasphemy  toward  God. 
He  either  can,  or  can't,  some  time  save  all.  If  he  can't,  he 
isn't  God ;  for  his  power  is  limited.  If  he  can,  and  will  not, 
then  he's  no  God,  but  a  devil." 

"  But,  they  say,  he  is  limited  by  man's  free-will,  and  must 
let  him  take  his  own  course." 

"  I  know  that  is  urged ;  but  it  is  a  quibble.  We  talk 
much  of  human  obligation :  isn't  there  any  divine  obliga 
tion  ?  I  say  it  reverently ;  but  God  has  no  right  to  create 
a  cause  that  he  cannot  control,  and  that  he  knows  will  result 


122  BLUFFTON. 

in  evil.  To  do  so  would  make  the  evil  his  own.  It  is  so 
simple  a  principle  of  justice,  that  all  human  laws  recognize 
it  concerning  human  actions.  The  creation  of  the  world,  if 
its  outcome  is  to  be  irremediable  evil  to  a  single  human  soul, 
is  a  gigantic  crime.  For  even  God  has  no  right  to  do  other 
than  right.  And  what  would  be  a  crime  on  earth  can't  be 
goodness  in  heaven." 

"  With  such  beliefs  as  these,  how  can  you  remain  in  an 
orthodox  church  ?  " 

"  I  wake  up  and  find  these  things  forcing  themselves  on 
me  in  the  orthodox  church,  and  I  do  not  as  yet  see  my  way." 

"  Go  into  another  church." 

"  Where  ?  I  am  not  a  Universalist.  I  am  not  a  Uni 
tarian.  Both  hold  beliefs  I  cannot  accept.  Neither  of  their 
systems  will  be  the  church  of  the  future.  There  is  nowhere 
to  go.  I  have  plenty  of  company.  Other  ministers  are  in  the 
same  position.  And  yet  I  stay  so  far,  more  because  I  know 
not  how  to  leave,  than  because  I  think  I  ought  to  stay." 

"But  you  do  not  preach  what  you  do  not  believe?  I 
can't  think  that  of  you." 

"  Never.  I  simply  keep  still  concerning  my  doubts.  I 
preach  positively  what  I  do  believe,  —  the  great  principles 
of  righteousness,  the  central  ideas  of  a  Christian  life." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Forrest,  I  think  I  feel  the  difficulties  of  your 
position.  And  I  fear  your  enemies,  that  smile  upon  you, 
will  help  you  settle  the  question." 

"  I  am  ready  to  face  whatever  comes." 
.     But,  as  he  walked  toward  his  study,  he  said  to  himself,  — 

"Can  I  face 


A   SOUL    COME   TO  JUDGMENT.  12$ 


XIII. 

A  SOUL  COME  TO  JUDGMENT. 

FROM  the  sitting-room  of  Mrs.  Grey,  Mr.  Forrest  went 
alone  to  his  study. 

The  great  battles  of  the  world  are  fought  alone.  Before 
men  appear  in  the  great  crises  of  the  world,  to  head  for 
lorn-hopes,  guide  nations,  or  lead  others  to  victory,  they 
have  first  met,  fought,  and  conquered  themselves,  on  the 
unseen  battle-fields  of  the  soul.  There  is  no  shouting,  no 
noise  of  cannon,  no  waving  of  flags  above  the  smoke ;  but 
only  a  cry  of  prayer,  or  a  sigh  of  agony  breathed  out,  that, 
like  the  puff  of  steam  from  a  volcano,  tells  of  the  infernal 
strife  below.  It  is  the  Armageddon  battle-field,  where  the 
hosts  of  good  and  evil  clutch  in  deadly  encounter.  He 
who  has  won  here  is  safe.  No  other  is  fit  to  trust  as 
leader  when  grand  human  destinies  are  hanging  in  the 
balance.  Here  Moses,  and  Sakya-muni,  and  Jesus,  and 
Mohammed,  and  Luther,  and  Wesley,  and  Channing,  and 
Parker  fought,  and  raised  their  monuments  of  triumph. 
Here  all  true  souls  are  tested.  This  battle  is  the  soul's 
crisis  or  judgment-seat,  in  the  true  New-Testament  sense. 


1 24  BLUFFTON. 

It  is  the   man's   ordeal,   through  which    he   passes  while 
above  him  "the  throne  is  set,  and  the  books  are  opened." 

Here,  then,  is  Mr.  Forrest  come  at  last.  He  had  caught 
glimpses  of  the  gathering  hosts  before.  He  had  already 
been  in  the  edge  of  the  fray  more  than  once,  but  had  with 
drawn  again,  and  postponed  the  decision.  But  now  he 
neither  could  nor  cared  to  escape.  His  conscience  sounded 
the  bugle,  and  he  prepared  himself  for  the  issue.  He  felt 
he  was  fighting  for  the  prize  of  his  own  soul.  His  manhood 
was  to  be  lost  or  won.  The  combatants  are  to  be  found  in 
every  live  and  earnest  human  heart.  Progress  fought  re 
action  ;  freedom  struggled  with  tradition,  and  bondage  to  the 
letter  of  other  men's  thoughts ;  honesty  was  matched  against 
a  compromising  conformity;  the  faith  of  Abraham,  that 
"  went  out,  not  knowing  whither,"  —  only  knowing  that  God 
had  called,  —  was  met  by  the  timidity  that  doubted  whether 
God  ever  led  into  new  lands ;  worldly  favor  sought  to  seduce 
the  loyalty  that  prompted  to  choose  duty  at  the  cost  of  any 
loss ;  a  passionate  love  sought  to  make  duty  conform  to  its 
own  sweet  interests;  while  reverence  for  the  past  tried  to 
make  his  independent  search  seem  a  traitor  to  the  ancient 
wisdom  that  claims  with  authority  to  represent  God. 

Well  may  you  offer  him  your  sympathy ;  for  it  was  a  Geth- 
semane  struggle.  He  would  almost  rather  have  died  than 
enter  the  battle.  And  though  he  should  struggle,  and  come 
off  victor,  still  he  felt  that  it  must  be  at  such  a  cost  as  might 
leave  him  stripped  of  all  he  cared  to  live  for.  So  it  was  the 
bitterness  of  death  on  either  hand. 

He  sat  down  at  his  desk,  rested  his  elbows  on  its  top,  and 


A    SOUL    COME    TO   JUDGMENT.  12$ 

his  temples  on  the  palms  of  both  his  hands,  and  listened  to 
the  cries  that  came  up  from  the  deeps  of  his  soul. 

"  O  God  !  "  he  cried,  —  "  if  there  be  a  God,  —  why  must 
one  so  doubt  and  suffer  in  trying  to  find  thee,  and  the  way 
of  thy  truth?" 

And  then  he  sat,  and  thought  over  the  pathway  of  human 
progress,  and  noted  how  it  was  tear-sprinkled  and  blood- 
marked  all  the  way. 

"  It  has  been  one  long  martyrdom,"  he  said.  "  From  the 
dwellers  in  caves,  clear  on,  it  has  been  one  long  agony  and 
martyrdom.  Only  they  who  have  been  willing  to  be  useless, 
to  live  lives  of  mere  animal  content,  have  been  comfortable. 
The  thinkers,  the  inventors,  the  prophets,  they  who  have 
tried  to  give  something  to  mankind,  have  been  like  Prome 
theus,  —  have  paid  for  it  by  endless  vulture -gnawings  at  their 
vitals." 

Here  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  walked  the  room.  And 
out  of  his  terrible  doubt  he  exclaimed,  — 

"  Can  it  be,  after  all,  that  the  eternal  God  is  only  a  Jove- 
like  tyrant,  jealous  of  man's  welfare,  and  so  torturing  those 
who  would  be  his  benefactors,  leading  to  higher  thoughts 
and  better  ways?  If  not,  why  are  the  prophets  cast  out? 
why  do  they  have  to  pay,  in  tears  and  torture,  for  the  help 
they  would  render  their  fellow-men?  " 

"  But  this,"  he  continued  aloud,  "  is  blasphemy.  '  Shall 
not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right  ?  '  There  could  be  no 
sense  of  right  at  all,  were  God  not  righteous.  That  the  uni 
verse  is  orderly  at  all,  proves  that  order  rules.  That  there  is 
any  moral  order,  proves  right  supreme.  And  yet  the  price 
of  it !  Could  not  the  pain  be  spared?  " 


1 26  BLUFFTON. 

Then  he  caught  up  his  New  Testament,  and  read  how 
Jesus,  "  though  he  were  a  son,  yet  became  perfect  through 
the  things  that  he  suffered."  But,  as  he  mused,  he  said,  — 

"  But  this  does  not  make  it  seem  right.  It  only  shows 
that  the  greatest  souls  are  subject  to  the  inevitable  law." 

And  then  he  turned  to  "  In  Memoriam,  "  and  read,  — 

"  I  falter  where  I  firmly  trod, 

And,  falling  with  my  weight  of  cares, 
Upon  the  world's  great  altar-stairs 
That  slope  through  darkness  up  to  God,  — 

I  stretch  lone  hands  of  faith,  and  grope, 

And  gather  dust  and  chaff,  and  call 

To  what  I  feel  is  Lord  of  all, 
And  faintly  trust  the  larger  hope." 

"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  whatever  is  dark,  there  is  no  doubt, 
that,  if  I  am  to  be  a  man,  I  must  hear  and  obey  my  con 
science,  and  not  falter  when  duty  calls.  They  who  die  for 
right  are  victors,  though  they  go  down  into  the  dust  and 
endless  night ;  and  they  who  live,  and  pay  their  manhood 
for  the  privilege,  are  buried  forever  beneath  the  debris  of 
their  own  souls." 

This  point  of  the  battle,  then,  he  had  won.  He  would  be 
true  to  himself  at  any  cost. 

"  But  I'm  not  true  to  myself,"  he  exclaimed,  "  so  long  as 
I  occupy  this  equivocal  position.  I  must  leave  Bluffton.  I 
go  and  stand  in  my  pulpit,  and  feel  that  I  am  acting  a  lie.  I 
am  understood  to  be  orthodox  :  my  standing  there  proclaims 
the  fact.  I  can't  endure  it !  I  shall  get  so  that  my  soul 


A    SOUL    COME    TO   JUDGMENT.  I2/ 

will  consent  to  be  false ;  and  then  what  shall  I  be  worth  to 
anybody?  Since  all  things  are  so  uncertain,  I  almost  wish 
I  had  never  thought  and  studied.  But  I  have  thought  and 
studied,  and  the  fate  is  on  me." 

And  then  came  the  tempting  suggestion, — 

"But  the  most  of  your  people  like  the  doctrine  you 
preach ;  and  you  can  mould  them  to  your  will.  The  few 
who  oppose,  you  can  drive  away,  and  have  the  field  to  your 
self." 

It  was  a  sweet  thought  for  a  moment,  and  he  almost 
yielded.  Then  he  trembled  to  think  what  traitor  forces  were 
in  him ;  and  an  imagination  a  little  more  vivid  would  have 
made  him  fling  his  inkstand,  like  Luther,  at  the  haunting 
devil  of  deceit. 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  might  do  it,  if  I  could  play  an  under 
hand  game  like  that.  I  know  they  like  my  doctrine ;  but 
they  would  not  if  they  knew  its  name.  When  I  lead 
churches  into  new  truth,  I  will  do  it  with  open  colors,  and 
not  in  uniforms  that  are  stolen." 

While  he  had  walked  his  study,  and  thought,  and  read, 
and  struggled,  the  twilight  had  come  on.  The  tea- bell 
rang,  but  he  sent  down  word  that  he  would  not  eat  to-night. 
Then  he  went  to  his  window,  and  looked  out  to  the  east,  and 
saw  that  the  moon  was  rising.  It  threw  a  bridge  of  silver 
beams  across  the  river,  as  fair  as  the  streets  that  the  angels 
tread.  And  then  his  eyes  wandered  over  to  Madge's  win 
dow;  and  his  heart  beat  wildly  at  the  thought  of  her 
womanly  beauty  and  his  great  love. 

"  O  Madge  !  "  he  cried,  "  you  little  know  the  bitterness 


128  BLUFFTON. 

that  comes  to  my  heart  as  I  think  of  your  sweet  love.  But 
I  can  endure  this  here  no  longer.  I  must  get  out  into  the 
night." 

He  caught  his  hat,  and  started  for  the  hills.  He  walked 
for  an  hour  with  no  other  purpose  than  to  do  the  impossi 
ble,  —  get  away  from  himself.  At  last  the  attraction  of  the 
spot  and  the  memory  of  that  night  brought  him  to  the  place 
where  Madge's  silence  had  confessed  her  love.  He  sat 
down,  and  looked  about  him.  The  picture  of  ragged  bluffs, 
and  wide  river,  and  starry  sky,  brought  to  his  thought  those 
lines  of  Byron  :  — 

"  'Tis  midnight :  on  the  mountains  brown 
The  cold,  round  moon  shines  deeply  down. 
Blue  roll  the  waters  ;  blue  the  sky 
Seems,  like  an  ocean  hung  on  high, 
Bespangled  with  those  isles  of  light 
So  wildly,  spiritually  bright. 
Who  ever  looked  upon  them  shining, 
And  turned  to  earth  without  repining, 
Nor  wished  for  wings  to  flee  away 
And  mix  with  their  eternal  ray  ? " 

"They  look  peaceful,"  thought  he  ;  "and  ever  since  man 
suffered  they  have  tormented  him  with  the  spectacle  of  their 
inaccessible  peace.  But  now  even  the  dream  of  their  peace 
is  gone.  The  suns  are  torn  with  storm  and  tempest  com 
pared  with  which  our  earthly  tornadoes  are  quiet.  And  our 
modern  knowledge  tells  us  that  the  most  distant  planets  are 
like  our  own  old  earth,  upheaved  with  earthquakes,  and  torn 
with  volcanic  fires.  And  the  inhabitants  are  doubtless  like 


A    SOUL    COME    TO   JUDGMENT.  129 

us.  Perhaps  on  Venus  yonder  (to  whose  people  our  earth 
is  the  most  beautiful  planet  in  heaven)  some  man  like  me 
may  be  looking  up  to  the  earth,  and  longing  for  the  peace 
and  beauty  that  appears  to  be  our  lot.  There  is  no  longer 
refuge  in  the  stars.  Each  must  fight  his  own  battle  for  him 
self,  and  find  heaven  or  hell  where  he  is." 

And  then  his  thought  turned  to  his  love ;  and  he  medi 
tated,  — 

"  It  were  easy  enough  to  fight  the  battle,  if  you  were  not 
involved  in  it,  Madge.  It  isn't  easy  to  turn  one's  back  on 
friends  and  old  associations,  —  to  have  those  who  love  us 
think  we  have  given  up  God,  and  fallen  forever  into  the 
hands  of  evil.  But  all  this  could  be  borne.  But  to  pain 
your  heart,  perhaps  —  to  lose  you  !  O  Madge,  I  can't  en 
dure  it ! " 

For  he  had  learned  so  much  of  her  nature,  and  knew  her 
past  training  so  well,  that  he  feared  her  sense  of  duty  — 
which  was  no  less  strong  than  his  own  —  might  make  her 
sacrifice  even  her  love,  though  at  the  price  of  desolating  her 
life,  rather  than  yield  to  what  she  had  always  been  taught  to 
hate  and  fear  as  the  enemy  of  God.  And  it  was  just  this 
grand  heroism  of  her  character  that  made  him  admire  her. 
She  was  of  the  same  moral  fibre  as  the  judge,  her  father. 
She  would  have  been  a  martyr,  and  sung  and  gloried  in  the 
flames,  in  the  days  when  such  things  were.  And  her  love 
only  intensified  this.  She  loved  as  passionately  as  she  wor 
shipped  :  only  the  love  and  the  worship  must  not  conflict. 
And  Mr.  Forrest  saw,  with  admiration  mingled  with  terror, 
that  her  present  light  would  drive  her  very  noblest  qualities 


I3O  BLUFFTON. 

into  opposition  to  the  now  roused  sense  of  duty  in  his  own 
soul.  It  would  be  conscience  against  conscience,  —  God 
against  God. 

"  And  herein,"  he  said,  "  is  the  tragedy  of  duty.  What 
shall  become  of  poor,  weak,  human  hearts  between  two  such 
forces,  neither  of  which  can  give  way?  And  yet,  O  God  !  I 
must  be  true,  though  it  means  being  '  damned  for  thy  glory.' 
I  shall  lose  her,  if  I  am  true ;  and  yet,  if  I  am  not,  I  shall 
not  be  fit  to  win  her.  Charybdis  and  Scylla,  on  one  of  you 
I  shall  wreck." 

He  now  rose  again,  but  could  not  bear  to  go  into  the 
house.  He  was  in  no  mood  for  sleep.  He  wandered  and 
thought  till  he  found  himself  on  the  summit  of  Bowman's 
Hill,  above  the  calm  river  that  held  the  stars  on  its  bosom. 
He  looked  over  toward  the  cottage ;  and  there  was  uncle 
Zeke,  leaning  over  his  fence  and  looking  up  at  the  sky,  as 
though  he  had  come  out  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air  before 
going  to  bed. 

"  Uncle,"  said  Mr.  Forrest  "  it  looks  peaceful  up  there. 
I  wish  the  world  was  as  quiet  as  the  heavens  seem  to  be." 

"Why,  Mr.  Forrest !  what's  turned  you  into  a  night-walker? 
Folks  ain't  gin'ally  trampin'  round  up  here  at  bedtime." 

"  Well,  I'm  restless,  and  don't  feel  like  sleep." 

"  In  love,  mebbe.  I  was  in  love  onct ;  but "  (rubbing  his 
eyes  with  his  rough  fist)  "  she  died,  and  I  never  cared  for 
nobody  else.  But  when  I  fust  loved,  and  before  the  shad- 
der  come,  I  used  to  couldn't  stay  in  the  house  sech  nights 
as  this ;  used  to  wander  round,  and  think  how  much  more 
light  ther'  wuz  in  her  eyes  fer  me  than  there  wuz  in  all  the 
stars." 


A    SOUL   COME   TO  JUDGMENT.  131 

By  this  time  uncle  Zeke  and  Mr.  Forrest  were  fast  friends. 
The  old  man  had  found  in  the  new  minister  a  touch  of  fresh, 
true  manhood,  and  a  rational  view  of  religion,  that  won  his 
respect,  and  now  he  would  have  done  any  thing  for  him 
that  a  Newfoundland  would  have  done  for  his  master ;  and 
Mr.  Forrest  found  in  him  a  bit  of  true  and  sound  wood, 
though  gnarly  in  the  grain,  that  gave  him  a  new  respect  for 
the  raw  material  of  healthy  human  nature. 

So,  though  he  did  not  resent  the  reference  to  his  love, 
the  subject  was  too  sore  and  sacred  to  be  handled  by  any 
human  touch ;  and  he  therefore  waived  the  point,  and  sim 
ply  said, — 

"  I'm  thinking,  uncle  Zeke,  that  I'll  have  to  leave  Bluff- 
ton." 

"  Why,  you  only  come  in  June ;  and  now  it's  jest  gittin' 
well  on  into  spring.  Not  a  year  yet.  What  do  you  mean? " 

"  I  mean,  I  can't  stay,  and  be  an  honest  man." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Forrest,  I'se  goin'  ter  say  you's  a'most  the 
only  honest  man  here  ;  an'  you  oughtn't  to  talk  o'  goin'." 

"  But  what  if  I  can't  be  honest  if  I  stay?  " 

"Your  remarks  is  way  off  color  to  me.  I  don't  sense 
what  yer  drivin'  at." 

"Well,  I'm  driving  at  this.  The  church  is  orthodox. 
You  know  I  am  not,  —  or  you  wouldn't  like  me  as  I  think 
you  do,  —  and  so  I  am  where  I  do  not  belong.  Does  it 
look  clear  now  ?  " 

"  Yis,  Mr.  Forrest,  it  doos ;  clearer'n  I  wish  it  did.  You 
know  how  I've  larned  to  like  you ;  an'  you've  throwed  light 
fer  the  fust  time  on  tough  things  that  used  ter  trouble  me. 


132  BLUFFTON. 

You  know,"  he  huskily  added,  for  his  voice  was  getting  low 
in  his  throat,  "  I  told  yer  I  liked  the  looks  o'  ye,  the  fust  time 
I  sot  eyes  on  ye  that  Sunday  mornin'  arter  you  come  by  the 
boat ;  and  I  know  how  the  pious  cusses  —  beg  parding,  Mr. 
Forrest,  but  I  can't  help  it  —  are  raisin'  a  rumpus  behind 
yer  back.  I  knowed  a  fuss  was  comin'.  But  can't  ye  fight 
it  out,  and  stay  ?  " 

"  But  I  ought  not  to  stay  in  an  orthodox  church  if  I  don't 
belong  there." 

"  No  more  ye'd  ought,"  said  uncle  Zeke,  "  though  it  tugs 
a  mighty  heap  at  my  heart  to  say  so.  'Twill  be  orful  lone 
some.  An'  yit  I  shouldn't  'spect  you  ef  you  warn't  true  to 
yer  convictions ;  coz  that's  what  I  take  to  yer  fur." 

If  Mr.  Forrest  had  had  any  hesitation,  the  re-enforcement 
of  uncle  Zeke's  simple  clear-headedness  would  have  given 
his  conscience  the  victory. 

But  as  he  turned  to  go  back  to  his  study,  uncle  Zeke  said 
cheerily,  — 

"Well,  Mr.  Forrest,  mebbe  'twon't  come  to  that  now. 
They  may  have  sense  'nough  to  own  up  you're  right,  and 
change  ter  your  platform.  But  ye'll  be  a  man,  anyhow." 
And,  as  he  wrung  his  hand  with  a  hearty  but  rough  grip,  he 
added,  "  God  bless  you  !  God  bless  you  !  The  world's  big, 
my  dear  boy;  an'  somewhere  ther's  folks  that'll  listen  to 
you,  though  I'll  be  hungry  for  a  relig'n  'thout  the  brains 
out  on't. 

"  But  'tain't  come  yit ;  and  p'raps  ye'll  see  yer  way  out 
now." 

The  ordeal  was  over ;  and  the  recording  angel  had  written 


A   SOUL    COME   TO  JUDGMENT.  133 

it  down,  that  another  soul  had  stood  before  the  eternal  judg 
ment-seat,  and  passed  among  those  who  were  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  Judge. 

And,  as  Mr.  Forrest  walked  home,  his  heart  was  as  quiet  as 
the  stars  appeared,  though  still  a  sadness,  like  a  minor  chord 
in  music,  made  itself  heard  in  the  song  of  triumph  that 
the  angel  thoughts  sung  in  his  soul. 


134  BLUFFTON. 


XIV. 

THE  OFFENCE. 

IT  was  now  toward  the  first  of  May.  What  with  private 
thought  and  study,  with  regular  preaching,  and  the  extra 
labor  of  the  revival  season ;  with  parish  work,  and  efforts 
among  the  poor ;  with  the  endless  routine,  and  the  thousand 
and  one  calls  that  come  to  the  man  who  is  everybody's  ser 
vant  and  who  yet  is  generally  regarded  as  having  nothing  to 
do,  —  Mr.  Forrest  found  himself  much  worn,  and  needing,  if 
no  more,  a  brief  rest.  A  little  matter  of  business  also  re 
quired  his  attention.  And,  besides  this,  it  seemed  to  him 
that  the  change  of  a  short  trip  among  new  scenes  might 
help  clear  his  head,  and  strengthen  his  right  resolves,  after 
the  internal  ferment  he  had  passed  through.  Who  knew  but 
something  might  occur  to  open  a  way  for  him  out  of  his 
present  wilderness  ? 

It  being  now  for  some  time  well  known  that  he  was  en 
gaged  to  Miss  Margaret,  he  was  accustomed  to  spend  much 
of  the  little  leisure  he  had  by  her  side.  He  forgot  all  evil 
and  trouble  in  the  light  of  her  face.  With  her  he  was  in 
paradise ;  and  only  when  he  left  her  did  he  go  out  and  down 
into  the  confusion  and  struggle  of  life.  But,  when  he  was 


THE    OFFENCE.  135 

out,  the  thought  that  some  day  he  might  be  shut  out,  and 
see  only  the  cherub  and  flaming  sword  forbidding  entrance 
again,  made  him  faint  and  sick  at  heart. 

He  could  hardly  bear  to  leave  her  long  enough  for  his 
contemplated  trip. 

"  Madge,"  said  he,  as  he  stood  by  her  side  at  her  window, 
looking  out  on  the  fresh  spring  morning,  "  I  can't  bear  to  be 
away  from  you  long  enough  for  th:s  trip.  I  feel  as  though 
some  horrible  power  were  waiting  to  steal  you  from  me  as 
soon  as  I  am  away." 

"  Why  Mark,  what  a  sickly  fancy  !  That  very  feeling  is  a 
reason  why  you  should  go.  It's  because  you  are  nervously 
worn  with  your  work.  You'll  come  back  with  the  clouds  all 
out  of  your  brain." 

"  You  want  me  to  go,  then?  " 

"  Please  don't  be  cruel,  Mark.  You  know  how  I  love  to 
have  you  near  me.  But  I  love  you  enough  to  want  you 
away  when  duty  calls,  and  it  is  for  your  good." 

"  Two  weeks  seems  so  long  now  !  " 

"  I  shall  indeed  be  homesick  for  you.  But  think  of  me 
as  happy  and  glad  for  you,  and  as  looking  East  till  you  are 
West  again." 

He  drew  her  to  him,  smoothed  a  loose  lock  of  hair  on 
her  forehead  with  his  hand,  and  then,  lifting  her  fair  round 
face  till  it  looked  in  his  own,  gazed  long  and  lovingly  in 
her  eyes,  and  kissed  her  a  passionate  good-by. 

Little  did  he  dream,  in  spite  of  his  words  of  foreboding 
to  Madge,  that  his  trip  to  New  York  was  to  be  the  rising  of 
a  little  cloud  out  of  the  east,  that,  gathering  blackness,  was 
to  spread  west,  and  darken  all  his  horizon. 


1 36  BLUFFTON. 

It  is  no  part  of  our  purpose  to  describe  his  journey,  what 
he  saw,  said,  or  did.  He  looked  after  his  business  affairs : 
he  visited  several  friends,  one  an  old  physician,  at  whose 
house  he  spent  several  days.  When  he  returned,  he  had  in 
his  care  a  stranger,  a  lady,  whom  he  left  at  the  house  of  his 
friend  Mr.  Winthrop,  at  Maple  City.  There  was  much  con 
fidential  talk  between  him  and  Tom ;  but  nothing  that,  as 
yet,  we  have  any  right  to  overhear. 

Before  Mr.  Forrest  left  Bluffton,  the  excessive  heat  that  in 
spring  visits  these  low-lying  river  towns  had  already  raised 
the  fear  of  a  coming  epidemic.  Occasional  cases  of  cholera 
had  been  heard  of  in  towns  farther  down  the  river.  And 
now  the  hot  May,  combined  with  the  lack  of  any  proper 
sanitary  care,  had  prepared  a  way  for  it  at  Bluffton. 

At  its  first  appearance,  many  of  those  who  could  afford  to 
do  so  left  the  place.  Or  those  who  lived  on  the  hills,  where 
the  air  was  pure,  shut  themselves  in  their  homes,  and  left 
the  town  to  shift  for  itself.  As  usual  in  such  cases,  those  most 
exposed,  living  in  the  lower  and  poorer  parts  of  the  city 
were  unable  either  to  flee,  or  to  defend  themselves  where 
they  were  :  so  the  disease  cut  them  down.  The  physicians 
stood  bravely  at  their  posts ;  but  their  great  difficulty  was  to 
get  any  one  to  nurse  and  look  after  their  patients.  The  fear 
of  the  ravager  drove  even  family  friends  and  relatives  into 
the  selfish  struggle  to  save  themselves. 

But  a  few  heroic  souls  remained,  and,  passing  from  one 
house  to  another,  did  what  they  could  for  the  dying,  and 
helped  pay  the  last  rites  for  the  dead.  Among  the  foremost 
of  these  was  Mrs.  Grey.  She  was  everywhere  the  tireless 


THE    OFFENCE.  137 

watcher  and  nurse,  night  as  well  as  day.  Mr.  Smiley  re 
marked  to  a  friend,  — 

"  I  have  no  doubt  this  is  a  judgment  of  God  on  the  wick 
edness  of  the  city ;  and  it  isn't  for  us  to  interfere.  When 
he  has  taken  vengeance,  he  will  stay  his  hand." 

And  he  sent  a  note  to  Mrs.  Grey,  one  extract  from  which 
read  as  follows  :  — 

"  You  know  I  have  always  been  interested  in  the  welfare  of  your 
soul.  You  have  been  an  infidel,  and  a  scoffer  at  the  ordinances  of 
God ;  and  I  warn  you  not  to  peril  your  life  in  this  way  until  you  make 
your  peace  with  him." 

She  sat  down  where  she  was,  beside  a  sick-bed,  and,  turn 
ing  the  note  over,  she  wrote  on  its  back,  and  returned  it  with 
these  words :  — 

"  You  think  this  is  a  supernatural  judgment  of  God  on  the  wicked. 
Unless,  then,  you  regard  yourself  as  one  of  the  wicked,  and  liable  to 
its  stroke,  why  do  you  not  leave  the  safety  of  your  hillside,  and  come 
down  and  help  us?  Do  you  think  God  cannot  smite  the  hill,  or 
that  he  cannot  keep  you  here  ?  I  think  it  the  natural  result  of  the 
ignorance  and  filth  of  the  people.  But,  though  they  have  brought  it 
on  themselves,  still  I  must  help  them  what  I  can.  I  haven't  time  now 
to  '  save  my  soul : '  I  am  too  busy  saving  the  bodies  of  others.  Would 
it  not  be  well  for  you  to  read  the  words  of  him  you  regard  as  God  ?  — 
'  He  that  saveth  his  life  will  lose  it ;  and  he  that  loseth  it  for  my  sake 
will  save  it.' " 

He  was  astonished,  and  felt  insulted,  at  an  "infidel's" 
daring  to  rebuke  him,  the  leading  man  in  the  church.  But 
she  went  on  with  her  work. 


138  BLUFFTON. 

But  the  prolonged  watching,  and  the  breathing  of  the 
malarious  air,  were  telling  upon  her.  And  when  the  epi 
demic  began  to  abate,  and  when  she  thought  her  labors  were 
well-nigh  over,  she  awoke  to  a  recognition  of  the  symptoms 
in  herself;  and,  the  very  morning  on  which  Mr.  Forrest 
returned  from  New  York,  she  was  carried  to  her  hillside 
cottage,  to  pay  the  penalty  of  her  devotion  with  her  own  life. 

Uncle  Zeke  met  Mr.  Forrest  at  the  levee;  and,  as  he 
grasped  his  hand,  he  said,  — 

"  Bad  news  for  ye,  Mr.  Forrest.  She's  jist  ben  an  angel 
while  ye  ben  gone ;  and  now  she's  took." 

Mr.  Forrest  had  learned  of  the  epidemic ;  but  not  having 
heard  of  Madge  since  leaving  New  York,  his  first  thought 
was  of  her ;  and  he  exclaimed,  — 

"  Who,  Uncle  Zeke  ?     Miss  Hartley  "  — 

"  No,  no  :  Miss  Hartley  is  well,  though  she's  done  all  she 
could.  But  Mrs.  Grey  is  took,  and  I'se  afraid  for  the  wust." 

"But  where  is  she?"  he  hurriedly  inquired. 

"  They've  car'ed  her  home,"  said  he. 

"  Thank  you,  uncle,  for  telling  me.  I  must  go  to  her  at 
oncer" 

And  before  going  even  to  speak  to  Madge,  he  hastened  to 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Grey.  He  found  his  worst  fears  justified. 
She  was  sinking  rapidly.  Her  face  lighted  with  joy  and 
welcome  as  he  went  in,  and  took  her  hand,  already  clammy 
and  cold. 

"O  Mrs.  Grey!"  he  exclaimed,  while  the  tears  blinded 
his  eyes,  "  I  can't  have  it  so  !  I've  learned  to  love  you  like 
a  mother." 


THE    OFFENCE.  139 

"Thanks,  Mr.  Forrest,"  she  whispered.  "I'm  so  glad  to 
hear  you  say  so  !  But  the  clock  is  running  down." 

"  Only  two  weeks  gone,"  he  cried.  "  I  didn't  think  of 
this." 

"  But,"  she  whispered  again,  "  it  is  all  right.  I  have  done 
what  I  could.  It  was  such  a  comfort  to  see  how  glad  and 
grateful  they  were  !  I  couldn't  desert  them. 

"And,"  she  added,  "  I  haven't  any  fear.  It's  as  well  now 
as  ever.  It  must  come  ;  and  it  had  better  come  in  the  way 
of  duty.  Life  purchased  by  neglect  of  the  suffering  isn't 
worth  having ' '  —  and  her  voice  sunk  away. 

"But  speak  to  me  once  more,"  he  cried.  "Is  it  all 
well?" 

"  All  well,"  she  added,  rousing  for  a  moment.  "  If,  as  I 
hope,  there's  a  future,  we'll  meet.  If  not,  still  God  does  us 
no  wrong.  We've  had  life,  —  a  chance  to  help  our  fellow- 
men.  Be  true,  and — all  is — well." 

And  she  sunk  into  a  lethargy,  from  which  she  roused  no 
more.  Mr.  Forrest  put  his  cheek  to  her  lips  to  find  if  he 
could  feel  her  breath;  and,  seeing  that  she  breathed  no 
more,  he  kissed  her  forehead,  and  sprinkled  it  with  tears. 

"  O  God  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  whatever  she  is  called,  here 
sleeps  one  of  thine  own  saints." 

The  town  was  full  of  grief,  and  loud  were  her  praises  on 
the  lips  of  all  the  common  people,  when  they  heard  that  she 
had  given  up  her  life  for  them ;  and  for  a  time  all  criticism 
of  her  opinions  was  shamed  into  silence  in  the  presence  of 
her  noble  life  and  nobler  death. 

As  her  house  was  small,  and  so  many  of  those  she  had 


I4O  BLUFFTON. 

befriended  clamored  for  the  privilege  of  following  her  to  the 
grave,  it  was  determined  that  the  funeral  should  be  in  the 
church.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  it  would  have  been 
opposed  as  a  profanation  of  the  sanctuary;  but  any  such 
move  now  would  have  been  so  frowned  upon  by  the  public 
sentiment,  that  it  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

So  the  very  next  afternoon  the  church  was  crowded  with 
a  sorrowing  throng.  As  Mr.  Forrest  looked  over  them  he 
could  not  help  thinking  of  the  story  of  Dorcas,  and  how, 
when  she  was  dead,  the  widows  came  together  weeping,  and 
showing  the  garments  that  Dorcas  had  made  ;  and,  indeed, 
he  read  this  story  as  a  part  of  the  scripture-service  appropri 
ate  to  the  scene. 

When  a  hymn  had  been  sung,  he  rose,  and  gave  out  his 
text,  — 

"  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I 
have  kept  the  faith :  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  the 
crown  which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  judge,  shall  give  me  at 
that  day." 

After  his  long  struggles  and  her  motherly  friendship,  and 
this  heroic  sacrifice  of  herself,  he  was  in  no  mood  to  pay 
regard  to  theological  prejudices.  He  must  speak  his  heart 
out,  if  he  spoke  at  all. 

He  began  with  a  brief  sketch  of  her  life,  as  she  had  given 
it  to  him  in  their  many  conversations.  He  pictured  her 
hard,  puritanical  childhood;  how  she  had  longed  for  fa 
therly  and  motherly  kisses  and  love,  when  only  severe  care 
and  the  hard  training  of  duty  had  been  accorded  her ;  how 
she  had  been  repressed  and  discouraged  to  keep  back,  as 


THE    OFFENCE.  14! 

they  thought,  any  sinful  pride.  He  spoke  of  restricted  Sun 
days,  and  how  church  and  religion  had  been  made  hateful 
to  her  by  showing  her  only  its  angular  side ;  how  even  her 
love  for  birds  and  flowers  was  repressed  and  denied,  as 
savoring  of  idle  vanity ;  then,  how  she  had  fought  her  way 
out  of  this  into  a  belief  in  and  love  for  a  God  who  was  the 
tender,  loving  Father  of  us  all.  He  spoke  of  her  married 
life,  of  her  devotion  and  sacrifice  to  her  husband;  and 
then,  amid  the  broken  sobs  of  the  many  she  had  helped,  he 
pictured  her  life  of  beneficence  in  Bluffton.  And  when  he 
reached  the  last  two  weeks,  and  what  she  had  dared  and 
borne  for  others,  and  with  no  thought  of  or  hope  for  reward, 
his  own  voice  faltered,  and  he  could  hardly  command  his 
words. 

Pausing  then  a  moment,  he  said,  — 

"  Such,  friends,  is  her  past  life,  and  such  her  death.  I 
well  know  the  odium  that  attaches  to  her  in  this  city  on 
account  of  her  theological  opinions.  But  to  me  it  seems 
paltry,  in  the  presence  of  her  high  and  holy  sacrifice,  to 
speak  of  such  superficial  distinctions.  If  ye  cannot  gather 
grapes  ef  thorns,  nor  figs  of  thistles,  as  the  Master  says,  then 
by  what  name  shall  we  call  her  ?  Grapes  and  figs  of  noble 
character  and  unselfish  service  for  her  fellows  she  most 
assuredly  has 'borne.  And,  since  the  tree  is  known  by  its 
fruits,  she  can  have  been  none  other  than  sound-hearted  and 
true.  I  dare  to  call  hers  a  noble  Christian  life.  Let  those 
criticise  her  who  have  lived  as  well.  And,  if  none  others 
lift  their  voices,  there  will  be  the  silence  of  reverent  praise. 

"  She  has  fought  a  good  fight, —  a  fight  for  all  good  and 


142  BLUFFTON. 

noble  causes.  She  has  kept  the  faith, —  a  faith  in  God,  in 
duty,  in  mankind.  She  has  finished  her  course,  —  a  course 
back  over  which  she  can  look,  and  see  no  cause  for  shame. 
And  now,  I  trust,  there  is  indeed  kept  for  her  a  crown; 
for  the  Lord,  being  a  righteous  judge,  must  love  and  reward 
righteousness  in  his  children. 

"  It  seems  almost  an  insult,  in  the  presence  of  her  pure 
spirit,  to  defend  her.  But,  if  '  in  all  nations  he  who  doeth 
the  will  of  God  is  accepted  of  him,'  then  surely  there  will 
be  welcome  for  her.  What  she  has  thought  is  little  :  what 
she  has  done  is  much.  The  creed  is  little  if  it  do  not  make 
the  deed.  And,  when  the  deed  is  found,  the  creed  may  be 
inferred.  And  if  indeed  there  be  a  heaven  where  righteous 
souls  are  after  death,  then  at  her  coming  there  must  have 
risen  the  cry,  'Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,'  that  the  right 
eous  one  may  enter  in  !  " 

He  then  closed  his  simple  service  by  reading  the  follow 
ing  verses :  — 

X.      "  O  apple,  apple,  on  the  bough,    *•• 

What  of  your  root  ?  "  cried  he  : 
"  Thou  lookest  sweet  and  very  fair ; 
But  tell  me  about  the  tree." 

The  apple  replied,  "  Come,  taste  the  fruit : 

Thou  need'st  not  dig  about 
The  root,  nor  saw  the  trunk  in  two, 

To  find  its  nature  out. 

If  I  be  sound  in  core,  and  sweet, 

Then  trust  the  tree  and  root ; 
For  the  juices  of  the  tree  do  make 

The  flavor  of  the  fruit. 


THE    OFFENCE.  143 

If  the  fruit  is  bitter,  no  matter  then 

How  fair  the  trunk  may  be  ; 
It  cumbers  the  ground  :  so  take  thine  axe, 

And,  gardener,  hew  down  the  tree." 

So  is  it  in  the  lives  of  men  : 

The  fair  outside  may  show 
Like  a  tree  of  paradise ;  but  God 

If  it  bear  good  fruit  doth  know. 

The  procession  formed,  after  the  great  multitude  had 
taken  their  last  look,  and  wound  its  slow  way  round  the  bluff 
to  the  hillside  cemetery  as  it  sloped  down  to  the  river.  The 
grave  had  been  opened  beside  her  husband  ;  and  the  loving 
thought  of  the  poor,  who  could  pay  her  no  other  tribute, 
had  covered  all  the  freshly  thrown-out  clods  with  evergreens, 
and  with  the  same  material  had  completely  lined  the  grave. 
So  as  the  coffin  was  lowered  it  seemed  to  be  let  down  into 
an  amaranthine  bower  of  fadeless  green.  The  repulsiveness 
of  the  grave  was  gone  ;  and  she  was  only  put  away  to  sleep 
on  the  green  bed  of  the  branches. 

The  scene  was  one  of  wondrous  though  saddening  beauty. 
The  sun  was  low  in  the  west,  and  his  sloping  beams  fell 
through  and  slipped  under  the  trees,  and  lay  like  golden 
bars  upon  the  green  of  the  grass.  The  ripples  on  the  river 
twinkled  and  sparkled  in  the  light,  and  stretched  off,  crink 
ling  and  shimmering  by  the  islands,  till  lost  as  the  headlands 
closed  in.  The  air  was  soft  and  still,  hardly  moving  a  leaf, 
save  where  now  and  then  a  silver  poplar  kept  up  its  perpet 
ual  aspen  tremble.  And,  as  Mr.  Forrest  read  the  last  words 


144  BLUFFTON. 

of  the  service,  it  seemed  to  him  he  could  ask  no  more 
fitting  or  sunny  close  to  a  life  in  whose  sky  had  been  so 
much  of  cloud  and  storm.  When  he  had  pronounced  the 
benediction,  he  murmured  under  his  breath,  — 

" 'So  He  giveth  his  beloved  sleep.'  " 

And  now  when  the  formal  ceremony  was  over,  they  gath 
ered  about  him,  this  one  and  that,  to  tell  him  of  some  little 
deed  of  mercy  of  which  he  had  never  heard  before. 

When  all  else  had  gone,  Mr.  Forrest  staid  beside  the 
old  sexton,  who  was  filling  in  the  grave.  He  lived  in  a  little 
cottage  near  the  cemetery- gate,  a  mile  or  more  from  the 
town.  He  stopped  in  the  midst  of  his  work,  leaning  on  his 
spade ;  and,  when  he  had  wiped  his  eyes  with  his  rough 
sleeve,  he  said,  — 

"  O  Mr.  Forrest,  I  didn't  think  she'd  come  so  soon  arter 
I'd  put  my  own  little  one  in  the  ground  !  " 

"Have  you,  then,  lost  a  child  lately?  " 

"  Yes,  sir :  little  Clary's  gone  since  you  been  away.  Mrs. 
Grey  heard  we's  sick,  and  come  clear  up  the  hill  here  to 
help  us,  though  she's  all  wore  out  then.  We're  too  poor  to 
have  a  doctor ;  and,  'sides,  the  doctors  was  too  driven  down 
to  the  city.  An'  then,  when  she  died  there  warn't  no  minister 
't  I  felt  I  could  ask,  because  I  dpn't  go  nowhere  to  church. 
An'  this  blessed  angel,  she  come  up  an'  put  her  little  white 
dress  on  Clary,  and  put  a  rose  in  her  hand;  an'  then,"  — 
here  he  choked  a  minute,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands, 
—  "I  couldn't  'ford  no  hearse  :  so  we  two,  and  mother  all 
broke  down,  an'  leadin'  Johnny  and  Fred,  we  took  the  little 
white  pine  coffin  on  my  old  wheel-barrow ;  and  she  helped 


THE    OFFENCE.  145 

me  put  her  away  to  sleep  over  under  that  little  tree  in  the 
corner.  God  bless  her  !  she  was  like  the  sunshine,  ready  to 
look  down  soft  and  sweet  on  all  on  us." 

And  here  he  sat  down  on  the  heap  of  earth,  and  sobbed 
like  a  child. 


146  BLUFFTON. 


XV. 

MADGE   ENTREATS. 

ONLY  a  few  days  had  passed  before  Mr.  Forrest  learned 
that  the  words  he  had  spoken  of  Mrs.  Grey  were  to 
come  back  to  trouble  him.  His  breath  had  started  a  breeze 
that  might  gather  to  a  storm.  At  first,  in  the  excitement 
and  fresh  sorrow  of  her  loss,  the  unchurched  reverence  for 
her  was  a  sentiment  too  strong  to  be  overlooked.  But  all 
these  sorrows  pass  away,  and  people  become  absorbed  in 
their  own  life  again.  Then  his  words  were  remembered; 
and  the  orthodox  party  in  all  the  churches  took  the  alarm. 
A  minister  of  the  gospel  had  dared  to  set  up  as  a  pattern- 
saint,  and  even  profanely  open  the  gates  of  heaven  to,  an 
"  infidel."  It  was  not  to  be  endured.  Those  who  had  kept 
at  a  safe  distance  when  the  cholera  was  abroad  now  came 
out  boldly  to  depreciate  the  services  of  her  who  had  given 
her  life  for  those  in  danger.  Her  devotion  counted  for 
little :  her  opinions  only  were  remembered.  "  He  that 
believeth  and  is  baptized  shall  be  saved ;  and  he  that  be- 
lieveth  not  shall  be  damned,"  said  the  Baptists.  Each 
different  church  thought  her  soul  was  certainly  lost,  because 
she  was  not  "of  them."  For  very  few  of  the  people  in 


MADGE    ENTREATS.  147 

Bluffton  had  any  hope  of  the  salvation  of  members  of  other 
churches  even,  except  their  own.  So  of  course  there  was 
small  hope  for  one  not  in  any  church  at  all. 

Mr.  Smiley  made  a  special  visitation  of  the  parish,  and,  in 
the  claimed  interests  of  the  church,  prayed  and  wept  with 
all  the  old  ladies  over  their  pastor's  heresy.  He  said,  — 

"  Why,  only  think  what  it  means  !  If  Mrs.  Grey  is  to  be 
sent  right  to  heaven,  what  need  is  there  of  our  blessed  gos 
pel  of  salvation  ?  Where  is  salvation  by  faith  ?  What  is  the 
use  of  prayer  and  revival  meetings  ?  Why  send  the  gospel 
to  the  heathen?  The  other  churches  all  about  us  are  point 
ing  their  fingers  at  us,  and  wondering  that  we  allow  such 
things  to  go  on." 

And  when  he  met  Mr.  Forrest,  coming  out  of  a  house 
after  one  of  these  visits,  he  smiled  the  same  sweet  smile  as 
ever,  —  the  one  he  ordinarily  wore,  —  and  grasped  his  hand 
with  a  — 

"  I'm  so  glad,  my  dear  pastor,  that  you  were  away  during 
this  fearful  divine  visitation  !  We  did  what  we  could ;  but 
the  will  of  God  will  take  its  way.  Mrs.  Grey  will  be  a  great 
loss  to  the  poor.  A  woman  of  great  benevolence  was  Mrs. 
Grey.  Only  it  is  a  pity  she  had  not  the  grace  of  God  in 
her  heart." 

Mr.  Forrest  had  to  bite  his  lips  to  keep  back  a  sharp 
retort  on  his  cant,  that  now  he  had  learned  to  estimate  ;  but, 
crowding  back  his  words,  he  turned  abruptly,  and  walked 
away. 

And  now  the  town  was  beginning  to  whisper  under  its 
breath  something  more  appetizing  to  its  vulgar  taste,  if  not 


148  BLUFFTON. 

so  great  a  theological  crime  as  heresy.  Rumor,  particularly 
if  scandalous,  seems  to  have  been  in  league  with  Puck,  and 
to  have  learned  from  him  how  to  "  put  a  girdle  round  the 
earth  in  forty  minutes." 

Mr.  Forrest  had  hardly  been  back  from  New  York  a  day 
before  Mr.  Smiley  heard  that  at  which  he  appeared  to  be 
unspeakably  shocked ;  though  in  reality  he  caught  at  it,  as 
something  that  would  help  him  in  his  opposition  to  the  min 
ister.  This  opposition  was  by  this  time  well  known  to  Mr. 
Forrest,  though  it  had  been  kept  carefully  masked.  So  far 
as  he  could  learn,  it  dated  from  the  first,  and  had  no  other 
motive  than  the  instinctive  dislike  of  a  man  to  hearing  per 
petually  recommended  that  which  he  had  the  least  of,  viz., 
character. 

"  Deacon,"  said  Mr.  Smiley,  addressing  Deacon  Putney,  as 
they  met  on  the  sidewalk,  "just  come  up  in  my  office  a 
minute." 

And  when  seated,  he  said, — 

"  I  didn't  want  to  speak  of  it  on  the  street,  for  fear  some 
body  should  overhear ;  but  it  is  my  painful  duty  to  inform 
you  that  the  purity  and  honor  of  our  Zion  are  threatened." 

It  was  always  his  "  painful  duty  "  to  say  those  things  that 
he  knew  were  going  to  hurt;  but  no  man  living  was  ever 
more  ready  to  perform  "  painful  duties  "  of  this  kind. 

"Why,  Mr.  Smiley,"  said  the  deacon,  his  dull  eyes  kind 
ling  with  curiosity,  "  what  do  you  mean? " 

"Haven't  you  heard  it?"  He  knew  he  hadn't,  but  he 
wanted  to  make  it  appear  as  though  any  one  might  have  told 
him. 


MADGE    ENTREATS.  149 

"  Why,  no  :  I  haven't  heard  any  thing." 

"Well,  I'm  so  thankful.  I  feared  it  might  have  got  out; 
and  I  am  so  anxious  to  spare  the  church  ! " 

In  reality  he  was  "  so  anxious  "  to  have  the  privilege  of 
first  telling  it,  and  appearing  to  be  anxious  for  the  "  good  of 
the  cause." 

"  But  what  is  it?  "  anxiously  inquired  the  deacon. 

"  Oh  !  I  can't  bear  to  speak  of  it :  only  the  officers  of  the 
church,  the  '  watchmen  that  stand  on  the  towers  of  Zion,' 
and  whose  duty  it  is  to  warn  the  people,  ought  to  know. 
But  who  would  have  thought  it  ?  He  seemed  so  upright,  if 
he  wasn't  orthodox." 

"  Well,  do  tell  me  what  it  is  !  "  burst  out  the  deacon,  who 
was  getting  very  impatient. 

Then  Mr.  Smiley  laid  his  hand  on  the  deacon's  knee,  and, 
leaning  forward  and  looking  him  in  the  face,  said  in  a  low 
and  awe-ful  whisper,  — 

"  Why,  I've  just  got  it  from  good  authority,  that  Mr.  For 
rest,  when  in  New  York,  was  seen  to  go,  with  another  man, 
to  a  house  of  notorious  reputation." 

"  You  —  don't  —  say  ! "  slowly  and  emphatically  exclaimed 
the  deacon. 

"  And  that  isn't  all,  nor  the  worst,"  continued  Mr.  Smiley ; 
"  for  he  took  a  woman  from  this  very  house,  and  brought  her 
on  the  cars  all  the  way  West  with  him ;  and  she  is  now  con 
cealed  somewhere  in  Maple  City.  And,  though  he  has  been 
home  but  a  few  days,  he  has  already  been  up  there  once  to 
see  her.  Where  will  such  things  end?  " 

And  when  they  had  talked  it  over  in  all  its  bearings,  and 


1 5O  BLUFFTON. 

agreed  that  it  ought  to  be  kept  quiet,  they  went  out,  and 
whispered  it  all  over  the  town. 

But  Mr.  Forrest  neither  knew  nor  cared  for  any  of  these 
things.  He  was  not  anxious  as  to  what  Bluffton  thought  of 
him  now ;  for  he  had  a  sorer  trial  in  the  state  of  mind  of 
Miss  Hartley. 

It  was  a  rainy  spring  afternoon,  when,  having  spent  his 
morning  in  his  study,  and  the  weather  making  it  impossible 
for  him  to  do  out-door  work,  he  thought  he  would  spend  an 
hour  or  two  with  Madge. 

Judge  Hartley  had  heard  the  whispered  scandal ;  but  he 
was  just  enough  not  to  believe  all  he  heard,  and  he  would 
not  trouble  his  daughter  with  such  things  until  it  became 
necessary.  So  neither  Miss  Hartley  nor  Mr.  Forrest  knew 
the  underground  gossip  of  the  town.  But  the  judge  and 
many  others  had  talked  to  her  about  his  theological  heresies. 
She  had  as  yet  too  much  faith  in  him  to  think  that  he  could 
be  seriously  out  of  the  way.  Still  the  increase  of  criticism 
since  the  funeral  of  Mrs.  Grey  determined  her  to  have  a  talk 
with  him. 

"Mark,"  said  she,  as  they  sat  together  in  her  chamber, 
and  watched  and  listened  to  the  rain  on  the  window,  "  do 
you  know  there  is  one  thing  that  is  beginning  to  trouble 
me  very  much?" 

"  Why,  what  is  it,  Madge  ?  Nothing  ought  to  trouble  one 
I  love  so  much ;  and  it  shall  not,  if  in  my  power  to  prevent 
it." 

"  It  makes  me  glad  to  hear  you  speak  like  that ;  for  you 
are  just  the  one  that  can  prevent  it." 


MADGE    ENTREATS.  15! 

"Well,  tell  me  what  it  is  that  I  can  do." 

"  You  can  be  like  other  ministers,  Mark.  I  can't  bear  to 
hear  you  talked  about  so." 

"What  do  they  say?" 

"  They  say  you  are  drifting  away  from  the  truth.  Tell  me, 
are  you?" 

"  O  Madge  !  you've  touched  the  one  sore  spot  of  my  life. 
Yes,  Madge,  I  suppose  I  am  drifting,  or  sailing,  away  from 
what  many  think  is  the  truth." 

"  You  will  help  me,  then,  by  coming  back?  " 

"  I  fear  you've  asked  me  the  one  thing  that  is  out  of  my 
power.  One  cannot  believe  at  will." 

"  But,  dear  Mark,  why  can't  you  preach  as  other  ministers 
do?" 

"  Would  you  respect  me  if  I  preached  what  I  do  not  be 
lieve?" 

"  Why,  no,  of  course  I  could  not ;  but  why  can't  you  be 
lieve?" 

"  Because  I  have  thought  and  read  and  studied." 

"  But  why  need  you  read  and  study  the  books  that  upset 
your  faith?  They  can't  be  any  good  books  that  do  that." 

"  I  believe  them  to  be  wise  and  good  books,  Madge." 

"  But  you  are  young,  Mark.  May  you  not  be  mistaken  ? 
The  Church  that  has  believed  these  things  so  long,  the  great 
majority  of  learned  men,  they  all  must  be  right.  They  can't 
be  mistaken." 

"  The  truth  doesn't  go  by  majorities,  Madge  :  Christianity 
was  once  in  the  minority." 

"  Of  course ;  but  that  came  by  inspiration.  But  it  has 
been  settled  so  long,  it  must  be  true." 


152  BLUFFTON. 

"  But  even  the  majority  of  learned  men  are  not  orthodox." 

"  I  know,  the  great  numbers  of  scientific  men  and  philos 
ophers  :  they  follow  their  own  wisdom,  and  get  led  astray. 
But  father  thinks  it  is  wilful  blindness  on  their  part." 

"Well,  Madge,  it  almost  kills  me  to  have  to  give  you 
pain." 

"  But  you  don't  have  to  give  me  pain,  Mark.  You  have 
only  to  be  like  other  men  in  this  matter.  Why  can't  you  at 
least  let  these  disputed  questions  alone,  and  only  preach  the 
simple  gospel  ?  " 

"These  problems  haunt  me.  And  then,  all  these  ques 
tions  are  linked  together.  I  can't  treat  one,  and  let  the  rest 
alone.  I  sometimes  think  I  shall  have  to  leave  the  church." 

"  O  Mark  !  don't  talk  that  way  unless  you  want  to  break 
my  heart.  It  would  kill  father  to  have  me  follow  you 
out  of  the  church.  And  I  couldn't  leave  him  in  his  old 
age,  and  have  him  think  me  lost.  His  dear  old  face  would 
haunt  me  forever.  I  don't  know  much  about  these  great 
questions.  I  only  know  I  love  you,  I  trust  you.  But  oh, 
isn't  there  some  way  that  you  can  let  these  things  rest?  " 

"But,  dear  Madge  "  — 

"  Oh,  don't  say  there  isn't ! "  she  broke  in  passionately. 
"  If  you  love  me,  I  entreat  you,  dear  Mark,  don't  think  and 
study  these  horrible  things.  It  frightens  me,  Mark.  May  it 
not  be  that  Satan  is  tempting  you,  and  leading  you  astray  ? 
Father  says  he  often  comes  in  the  guise  of  human  wisdom, 
to  lead  men  away  from  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel." 

"There,  Madge,"  he  cried,  "please  don't  talk  so  any 
more.  I'll  try :  for  your  sake  I'll  try  to  do  any  and  all 
things  save  such  as  you  would  despise  me  for  doing." 


MADGE   ENTREATS.  153 

"  Do  find  some  way,"  she  added.  "  I  can't  abandon 
father.  And  yet  I  fear  it  would  kill  me  to  stay  with  him, 
and  lose  you.  I'm  only  a  weak  woman,  Mark.  I  only 
know  I  love  you  dearly.  I  am  not  wise  enough  to  help 
your  thinking.  You  must  settle  that.  I  suppose,  if  father 
did  not  hold  me  by  cords  of  duty  as  well  as  love,  I  should 
believe  any  thing  you  told  me  was  true.  But  O  Mark,  don't 
leave  me,  don't  leave  me  !  " 

And  she  flung  herself  into  his  waiting  arms,  and  poured 
out  her  trouble  and  anxiety  in  weeping. 

Mark  soothed  and  comforted  her  as  well  as  he  knew  how ; 
but  did  not  tell  her  of  the  horrible  fear,  that  weighed  down 
his  heart,  that  this  was  not  the  first  nor  worst  of  their 
sorrow. 

In  his  study  that  evening,  when  the  night  outside  was  dark 
as  the  rayless  heaven  of  his  soul,  he  went  over  again  his 
lonely  struggle.  It  was  no  longer  a  question  as  to  whether 
he  was  to  be  true  to  his  own  soul ;  and  he  was  too  clear 
headed  not  to  see  that  he  must  be  prepared  to  face  the 
worst.  So  his  battle  was  only  a  desperate  struggle  with  the 
inevitable. 

He  plainly  saw  that  leaving  Bluffton  and  orthodoxy  was 
separation  from  Madge.  Not  that  she  did  not  love  him 
enough  to  follow  him  to  the  world's  end.  He  knew  she  did. 
But  he  knew  also  that  she  loved  her  father  not  only,  but 
that  she  felt  bound  to  him  in  this  matter  by  the  whole 
strength  of  her  moral  nature.  He  would  think  her  lost  to 
God  and  him  forever ;  and  she  could  not  "  bring  down  his 
gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave."  Even  could  he  have 


154  BLUFFTON. 

persuaded  her  to  break  this  bond  of  her  moral  nature,  that 
linked  her  to  her  childhood  and  her  father  so  firmly,  he 
would  not  have  dared  to  do  it.  It  was  just  this  moral  force 
of  character  in  her,  that  made  the  tenderness  of  her  woman 
hood  so  lovely.  He  could  not  pluck  his  flower  with  such 
violence  as  to  strip  it  of  its  petals. 

"O  God  ! "  he  cried,  "  could  I  not  have  been  spared  this? 
Must  love,  too,  be  sacrificed  ?  I  could  give  all  else  gladly ; 
but  this  is  more  than  I  can  bear  !  " 

He  walked  his  study  in  silence,  and  alone  with  his  sorrow. 
And,  as  he  walked  and  thought,  he  took  from  his  pocket- 
book  a  scrap  that  he  had  cut  from  a  newspaper,  and  read 
over  again  some  verses  in  which  he  had  found  an  echo  of 
his  own  sadness.  He  had  looked  at  them  often  of  late,  and 
he  saw  himself  between  the  lines. 

THE  LONE  VOYAGER. 

Twas  ever  so,  that  he  who  dared 

To  sail  upon  a  sea  unknown 
Must  go  upon  a  voyage  unshared, 

And  brave  its  perils  all  alone. 

Columbus,  with  his  faith  alone, 

Sailed  for  new  worlds  beyond  the  sea ; 

Trusted  behind  by  few  or  none,  — 
Around  him  faithless  mutiny. 

And  he  who,  not  content  to  sit 

And  dream  upon  the  shores  of  truth, 

Watching  the  sea-bird  fancies  flit, 
And  wavelets  creep,  through  all  his  youth,  — 


MADGE    ENTREATS.  155 

Must  sail  unblest  of  those  behind, 

While  love  turns  to  reproach  her  tone : 

The  loving  God  alone  is  kind 
To  him  who  dares  to  sail  alone. 


"  But  is  even  God  kind  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  cry,  but  he 
does  not  answer.  O  truth,  truth  !  wilt  thou  strip  thy  votaries 
of  all,  —  leaving  them  only  their  weary  search  for  thee  ?  " 


156  BLUFFTON. 


XVI. 

A  TERRIBLE  SUSPICION. 

IN  small  towns  the  store  is  to  the  men  what  the  sewing- 
circle  is  to  the  women,  their  intellectual  and  gossip  ex 
change  ;  and  the  staple  conversation  is  commonly  no  whit 
more  important  or  dignified  in  the  one  place  than  it  is  in  the 
other. 

Deacon  Putney's  hardware  store  was  the  favorite  place 
of  resort.  From  the  nature  of  the  trade,  the  men  could  sit 
and  smoke,  and  were  not  likely  to  be  interrupted.  The  dea 
con  himself  was  always  much  readier  to  talk  than  to  work ; 
so  he  left  his  not  overcrowded  custom  to  his  clerks,  while  he 
sat  in  a  basket-work  armchair  by  the  stove,  and  assisted  in 
settling  the  last  question  of  public  moment. 

The  question  naturally  uppermost  now  was  the  new  scan 
dal  about  the  minister.  If  you  saw  two  or  three  people 
stopping  together  on  a  street-corner,  you  were  safe  in  sup 
posing  that  this  was  the  theme  of  their  conversation.  If 
Mr.  Forrest  came  by,  they  spoke  of  something  else,  gave 
him  a  pleasant  greeting,  and  then,  as  he  passed,  some  one 
would  remark,  — 

"Nobody  'd  'a'  thought  it,  would  they?  Just  look  at 
him.  Fine-looking  man.  Pity  !  " 


A   TERRIBLE   SUSPICION.  157 

And  then  they  would  go  on  speculating  about  it  again. 

About  this  time  aunt  Sally  Rawson  "felt  it  to  be  her  duty" 
to  speak  to  Miss  Hartley  on  the  subject.  Some  one  always 
"feels  bound"  to  tell  what  is  none  of  his  or  her  business 
to  just  the  wrong  person.  So  she  put  on  her  bonnet  and 
striped  shawl,  and  started  up  to  the  judge's. 

"  Miss  Hartley,"  said  she,  "  air  you  aware  what  a  name 
Mr.  Forrest  is  gittin'  'bout  town?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  she  with  some  severity;  for, 
whatever  had  happened,  she  felt  it  no  business  of  an  out 
sider  to  speak,  so  long  as  her  father  kept  silence. 

"Well,  'f  you're  goin'  to  git  your  back  up  when  one 
means  to  do  you  a  service,  then  no  matter." 

"  What  have  you  to  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  thought  't  you'd  ought  to  know  that  Mr.  Forrest 
was  seen  with  a  woman  in  sarcumstances  where  't  didn't 
look  jest  right,  an  "  — 

"  Mrs.  Rawson,  you  can  leave  the  house,  if  you  please," 
said  she  quietly.  "  I  can  learn  all  I  wish  to  know  of  Mr. 
Forrest,  from  those  who  have  a  better  right  to  speak  to  me 
on  the  subject." 

And  aunt  Sally  flounced  out  of  the  house  in  a  rage.  She 
went  straight  over  to  Mrs.  Buck,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  Well,  if  Miss  Hartley  ain't  the  sauciest,  stuck-up-est, 
pert  body  I  ever  see  !  " 

And  then  they  guessed  that  any  "  gal "  that  would  act 
that  way  "  warn't  no  better'n  she  should  be,  herself."  She 
"was  goin',"  aunt  Sally  said,  "to  do  her  a  favor;  "  but  she 
"guessed  she'd  wait  one  while  'fore  she  offered  to  do 
another." 


158  BLUFFTON. 

Meantime  Miss  Hartley  had  such  faith  in  Mr.  Forrest, 
and  in  her  father  too,  that  she  did  not  even  care  to  question 
as  to  what  aunt  Sally  was  hinting  at. 

It  was  only  natural  that  the  smouldering  material  should 
flame  out  at  the  store.  Here,  then,  let  us  go  and  listen,  and 
see  into  what  voices  it  will  hiss. 

"It's  only  natural,  I  say,"  said  Clem.  Haydon :  "when 
a  man  gets  loose  in  doctrine,  then  look  out  to  see  him  loose 
in  morals  next.  You  know  I  told  you  so  when  he  first  come." 

Clem.  Haydon,  so  called  familiarly  after  the  Western 
fashion,  was  a  middle-aged  man,  and  an  elder  in  the  United 
Presbyterian  church.  He  looked  upon  the  Congregational 
church  as  lacking  in  soundness,  anyway.  And  while  very 
zealous  for  the  kingdom  of  God,  like  many  others,  he  was 
not  over-sorry  to  see  any  other  than  the  United  Presbyterian 
branch  going  down. 

Deacon  Putney  had  learned  from  the  majority  opinion 
of  those  immediately  about  him,  that  Mr.  Forrest  was  not 
sound ;  and  yet  he  did  not  enjoy  having  a  member  of  a  rival 
church  get  any  handle  against  his  own.  So  he  replied  with 
a  bit  of  vinegar  in  his  tone,  — 

"P'raps  your  memory's  better'n  mine.  I  disremember 
your  ever  saying  any  thing  about  it  when  he  first  come." 

"  But  I  did,  though,  right  here  in  this  store.  I  saw  well 
enough  'twas  comin'." 

"  Some  folks'  hind-sight's  a  heap  better'n  their  foresight," 
observed  uncle  Zeke  sarcastically.  "  I  don't  'low  you 
seen  it  comin' ;  for  I  don't  believe  ther's  nothin'  come, 
nohow,  'cept  a  lot  o'  mare's-nests  you  fellers  's  a-settin'  on." 


A    TERRIBLE    SUSPICION.  159 

"  Oh  !  he  means  well,"  patronizingly  observed  Mr.  Smiley, 
"but  of  course  he  don't  know  what  we  know.  And  then 
what  does  he  know  about  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel  that 
Mr.  Forrest  slights?" 

"  Waal,  I  d'  know,  and  I  don't  care  much  'bout  yer  doc 
trines  o'  the  gospel.  But  Mr.  Forrest  preaches  the  practice 
of  the  gospel  a  blamed  sight  better'n  you  foller  him,  any 
how." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  you  think  so,"  sneered  Mr.  Smiley.  "  His  trip 
to  New  York  was  nice  practice  of  the  gospel,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  All  I  got  ter  say  is,"  responded  uncle  Zeke,  "  that,  till 
folks  shows  their  evidence,  to  be  talkin'  round  and  blackenin' 
folks'  characters  looks  a  big  sight  to  me  like  breakin'  one  o' 
the  c'mandments  anyway.  Ain't  there  suthin'  in  ther'  bout 
'  bearin'  false  witness  '  ?  " 

"  Well  hit  for  you,  uncle  Zeke,"  broke  in  Judge  Harring 
ton,  a  rough-spoken  but  ardent  admirer  of  Mr.  Forrest. 
'  You  all  know  I  don't  go  much  on  your  churches  anyhow ; 
but  I  do  like  an  honest  man.  I  don't  care  about  your  rights 
over  doctrine,  and  I  haven't  been  to  church  for  five  years 
before  Mr.  Forrest  came.  I  understand  he's  suffering  now 
because  we  outsiders  like  him.  But  do  you  want  to  know 

why  I  go  to  hear  him  ?  Because  there  isn't  another 

minister  in  town  that  dares  to  preach  out  what  he  believes. 
You  make  liars  of  them  anyhow.  You  stand  them  up  in 
your  pulpits,  and  then  say  to  them,  '  Don't  you  dare  to  find 
out  and  tell  us  any  thing  we  don't  already  know,  or,  snap  ! 
goes  the  bread  and  butter  out  of  your  mouths.'  I  wonder 
they  ain't  a  bigger  set  of  pudding-heads  than  the  most  of 
them  already  are." 


l6o  BLUFFTON. 

"  I  can't  countenance  such  language  by  my  presence," 
said  Mr.  Smiley,  and  pompously  withdrew. 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  said  uncle  Zeke  with  an  air  of  dry 
humor :  "  do  you  know,  I  never  saw  a  man  what  seemed  to 
be  so  lonesome-like  round  where  three  or  four  fellers  was 
tellin'  the  truth." 

"  Well,"  said  Clem.  Haydon,  who,  from  prudence  or  from 
some  other  reason,  didn't  see  fit  to  pick  up  uncle  Zeke's 
remark,  "  there  isn't  any  other  foundation  for  a  pure  moral 
ity  but  faith  in  the  Bible  and  the  Church ;  and  whatever 
else  Mr.  Forrest  has  done,  or  has  not,  he  has  undermined 
respect  for  these." 

"  But,"  replied  Judge  Harrington,  who,  though  rough,  was 
a  good  lawyer  and  a  man  well  read  in  history,  "  perhaps,  if 
that  is  so,  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  explain  how  it  hap 
pens  that  the  historical  '  ages  of  faith,'  when  nobody  dared 
to  doubt  either  Bible  or  Church,  were  the  most  completely 
immoral  ages  of  Christendom." 

Knowing  his  business  and  his  "  confession  of  faith,"  he 
could  only  reply,  — 

"  I  don't  believe  they  were.  My  minister  would  know  it 
if  it  was  so." 

"  But,"  responded  the  judge,  "  just  as  I  told  you,  he 
wouldn't  dare  say  it,  if  he  did  know  it.  If  he  did,  you'd 
'  send  him  in  his  resignation,'  as  black  Jim  said  the  other 
day  about  their  minister.  And  he  knows  it  mighty  well." 

"But  doesn't  morality  rest  on  the  Bible?"  he  feebly  pro 
tested. 

"No,"  said  the  judge.     "Nations  that  never  heard  of 


A   TERRIBLE   SUSPICION.  l6l 

your  Bible  are  a  big  sight  more  moral  than  many  of  the  church- 
members  in  town.  Morality  and  religion  made  the  Bible  in 
the  first  place ;  though  religion  had  more  to  do  with  some 
parts  of  it  than  morality  did." 

"Well,  I  do'  know,"  said  Deacon  Putney:  "/think  if 
there  weren't  no  Bible  and  no  Devil,  there  wouldn't  be 
much  goodness." 

"  When  people  behave  because  they're  afraid  of  the  Devil, 
do  you  want  to  know  what  I  think  of  'em?"  inquired  the 
judge.  He  expected  no  reply,  and  so  continued,  "  I  think 
they're  sneaks  and  cowards  instead  of  Christians.  Mr.  For 
rest  preaches  the  best  rules  and  principles  of  right  living 
I  ever  heard  in  Bluffton ;  and  I  have  my  opinion  —  which 
isn't  a  very  high  one  —  of  the  people  that  are  trying  to 
undermine  him." 

By  this  time  the  judge  and  Uncle  Zeke  had  withdrawn. 
Clem.  Haydon  and  the  Deacon  and  one  or  two  more  of  their 
kind  now  had  it  all  to  themselves.  Knowing  about  what 
they  would  say,  it  is  hardly  worth  our  while  to  listen  longer. 


1 62  BLUFFTON. 


XVII. 

AN   EXCHANGE   AT   MAPLE   CITY. 

ON  the  next  Sunday  Mr.  Forrest  was  to  be  at  Maple 
City  on  exchange  with  the  minister  there. 

On  the  Friday  preceding,  Mr.  Smiley  called  a  meeting 
of  personal  sympathizers  at  his  office.  Here  they  canvassed 
the  condition  of  affairs ;  and  Mr.  Forrest  was  officially  noti 
fied,  that,  at  the  church-meeting  that  evening,  steps  would 
be  taken  to  call  a  council  of  the  neighboring  churches  to 
pass  upon  the  matter  of  his  doctrinal  soundness.  "  Letters- 
missive  "  would  be  sent  out  Saturday ;  the  churches  could 
appoint  delegates  on  Sunday ;  and  the  council  was  to  meet 
on  the  following  Thursday. 

Mr.  Forrest  was  not  at  all  surprised ;  for  he  supposed  it 
would  come  soon.  He  did  not  care  to  stand  the  trial,  for 
his  own  part;  but  ministerial  friends,  with  whom  he  had 
discussed  the  coming  possibility,  urged  him  to  stand  for 
their  sakes.  They  preached  similar  doctrine  themselves; 
and  they  wanted  the  matter  brought  to  a  test,  as  to  whether 
there  was  any  freedom  in  the  church. 

Though  his  sympathies  were  all  with  Mr.  Smiley's  party, 
yet  Judge  Hartley  took  but  little  active  part  in  the  matter ; 


AN    EXCHANGE    AT    MAPLE    CITY.  163 

for  he  saw  how  distressed  it  made  his  daughter.  It  was 
indeed  a  sad  blow  to  her ;  for  she  saw  Mark  branded,  and 
cast  out  of  the  church,  in  her  foreboding  fancy ;  and  that 
meant  torn  from  her,  or  breaking  her  father's  heart.  She 
had  always  been  his  pet ;  and  now  in  his  old  age  he  leaned 
upon  her.  So  she  plead  with  Mr.  Forrest,  whenever  she 
saw  him  now,  until  he  hardly  dared  to  meet  her,  lest  her 
sorrow  and  his  own  love  should  persuade  him  to  warp  or 
twist  the  truth  from  its  straight  uprightness. 

By  this  time  Mr.  Forrest  was  well  aware  of  the  whispers 
concerning  his  character  about  town ;  and  yet  he  kept  per 
fectly  still,  and  made  no  explanation.  He  had  no  doubt 
these  rumors  would  complicate  affairs  at  the  council,  and  yet 
he  kept  still.  He  only  hoped  Madge  had  heard  nothing  that 
might  add  a  new  pang  to  her  sorrow ;  but  he  dared  not  ask 
her,  lest  his  question  should  be  a  revelation  of  what  he 
hoped  she  did  not  know. 

Sunday  came,  and  with  it  the  opportunity  Mr.  Forrest 
wanted  to  talk  affairs  over  with  Tom.  Of  course  he  stopped 
at  his  house.  After  dinner  was  over,  they  had  the  long 
afternoon  to  themselves.  The  house  faced  the  street ;  and 
a  long  piazza,  ran  round  three  sides,  —  the  two  ends  and  the 
rear.  Vines  clambered  over  it ;  and  through  their  leafy 
arches  one  looked  out  on  a  scene  of  wondrous  loveliness. 
The  sloping  river-bank,  covered  with  native  trees,  stretched 
away,  and  by  natural  terraces  reached  the  water,  which  here 
and  there  glistened  between  the  branches.  The  ground 
was  laid  out  in  lawn  and  flower-bed,  with  now  and  then  an 
artificial  lake  or  fountain.  The  whole  was  ornamented 


164  BLUFFTON. 

with  casts  of  statuary,  or  piles  of  shell,  or  stone  covered 
with  lichen  and  moss. 

Here,  then,  in  the  warm  May  afternoon,  the  two  friends 
sat,  tilted  back  in  their  chairs,  and  with  their  feet  on  the 
rail  about  the  piazza,,  as  men  always  love  to  sit  to  rest  and 
talk.  Tom  smoked  his  pipe  on  such  occasions,  and  with 
the  clouds  of  smoke  filled  in  the  pauses  of  their  conversa 
tion  ;  and,  though  he  did  not  care  for  it  alone,  Mark  would 
then  take  a  cigar,  and  keep  him  company. 

They  had  talked  for  a  few  minutes,  when  Tom  took  out 
his  pipe,  and  said,  — 

"  What  did  she  say  when  you  talked  with  her  this  morn 
ing,  Mark?  Isn't  she  ready  for  you  to  speak  yet?  " 

"  No,  Tom  :  she  can't  bring  her  mind  to  it ;  and  I  don't 
much  wonder,  after  all  that  has  passed." 

"But  it's  a  mighty  pity,  old  boy,  for  you  to  submit  to 
have  the  puppies  wagging  their  tongues  about  you  all  over 
Bluffton,  when  a  word  would  end  it." 

"  No  matter :  I  can  stand  it.  I  promised  her  in  New 
York  that  she  should  take  her  own  time  to  speak ;  and  she 
shall,  at  whatever  cost  to  me." 

"  But  if  she  only  knew  "  — 

"  But  she  shall  not  know,  Tom.  She  shall  not  risk  every 
thing  now  for  the  sake  of  saving  me  a  little  inconvenience." 

"  It  will  make  things  hot  for  you  at  the  council." 

"  Then  let  it  be  hot.  She  shall  know  that  I  did  for  her 
every  thing  I  could." 

"  Then  you  won't  speak  anyhow,  even  then  ?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not.  And  you  must  not,  either.  You 
know  you've  promised  me." 


AN    EXCHANGE    AT    MAPLE    CITY.  165 

"Yes,  I  know  I  have;  but  I  wish  I  had  not."  He 
thought  a  little,  and  added,  — 

"  It  was  a  foolish  promise.  She  might  as  well  speak  now 
as  any  time." 

"  She  shall  wait  till  she's  forty,  if  she  chooses,  Tom." 

"  But  what  of  Madge?     Does  she  know? " 

"  I  hope  not.  But,  if  she  does,  she  has  sense,  if  the  rest 
haven't.  That's  the  smallest  of  my  troubles  about  her." 

"  Women  are  jealous  and  suspicious,  Mark.  You  mustn't 
ask  too  much  of  them." 

"  If  she  can't  trust  me  a  little  now,  I'd  like  to  find  it  out." 

"  Well,  you'll  have  your  own  way,  I  suppose." 

"  But,  Tom,  look  here.  To  change  the  subject,"  said 
Mark, "  I've  noticed,  ever  since  I've  been  in  Bluffton,  that  my 
intimacy  with  you  has  been  a  crime  in  the  eyes  of  Smiley. 
Beside  your  heresy,  has  he  any  special  reason  for  disliking 
you?" 

"  The  same  reason  that  all  shams  have  for  disliking  the 
man  that  finds  them  out.  I  know  him  too  well :  that's  all." 

"  Have  you  ever  had  business  transactions  with  him  ?  " 

"I  should  think  I  had.  Having  paid  a  tolerably  high 
price  for  the  recollection,  I  don't  think  I'll  forget  it  soon 
either." 

"  He  makes  a  good  impression  on  one  at  first." 

"  Yes :  he's  one  of  your  devil-an-angel-of-light  kind  of 
fellows.  That  smile  of  his,  and  his  pious  tone,  have  a  com 
mercial  value,  Mark,  and  he  always  wears  them." 

"  I  don't  see  how  a  man  can  assume  to  be  what  he  isn't." 

"  Why,  his  face  has  got  to  have  some  sort  of  look  on  it, 


1 66  BLUFFTON. 

you  know ;  and  it  don't  cost  any  more  to  have  a  holy  one 
than  any  other." 

"He  has  always  appeared  friendly  to  me,  Tom." 

"  Of  course :  why  not  ?  Appearing  friendly  isn't  much 
trouble." 

"  But  what  have  I  done  to  offend  him  ?  I  hardly  under 
stand  it.  He  hasn't  so  gigantic  an  intellect  but  that  I  can 
claim,  without  immodesty,  to  satisfy  him  that  way." 

"That's  good,  Mark.  I'm  almost  afraid  you're  simple. 
His  instincts  are  sound.  He  feels,  from  the  first,  that  he  has 
no  standing  on  the  basis  of  the  kind  of  gospel  you  preach. 
He's  got  to  be  saved  by  emotion  and  an  external  atonement, 
or  there's  no  show  for  him.  You  preach  character  all  the 
time,  and  he  don't  like  it ;  for,  don't  you  see,  you're  '  bull 
ing  '  the  market  on  just  that  commodity  that  he  happens 
to  be  out  of.  Unless  he  can  '  bear '  you  on  that  line,  he's 
bankrupt." 

"  But,  Tom,  do  you  think  he  means  to  be  dishonest  ?  or 
does  he  cheat  himself  as  well  as  others?  " 

"  I  hardly  know  :  he's  a  puzzle  to  me." 

"  I've  noticed,"  continued  Mark,  "  that  sometimes  a  man 
gets  into  ways  of  doing  business  where  he's  hard  and  dis 
honest  so  long  as  the  effects  are  remote,  and  don't  touch 
his  feeling  by  an  actual  sight  of  the  results;  and  at  the 
same  time  he's  tender  and  kind  in  cases  of  actual  want 
about  him." 

"  Yes,  I  know  :  conscience  is  a  queer  thing.  He  seems  to 
have  his  conscience  under  as  thorough  control  as  his  face  : 
it  will  smile  on  any  thing  he  wants  it  to." 


AN    EXCHANGE    AT    MAPLE    CITY.  l6/ 

"  Now,  as  touching  this  matter,  no  man  would  willingly 
tell  things  to  his  own  discredit.  But  he  has  himself  told  me 
of  transactions  of  his  that  were  simply  outrageous ;  and  he 
seemed  to  be  perfectly  unconscious  of  there  being  any  thing 
about  them  but  smartness." 

"  I  know  :  conscience  seems  to  get  rusty,  like  old  scales, 
—  don't  indicate  the  weight  accurately." 

"  And  yet,  again,  I  occasionally  find  myself  compelled  to 
think  that  he  purposely  goes  wrong.  He  seems  deliberately 
to  choose  his  way.  Now,  not  long  ago  he  told  me  frankly  that 
even  if  I  was  right  and  he  wrong  on  doctrinal  matters,  he 
didn't  want  to  know  it ;  for  he  didn't  propose  to  change  — 
*  choosing  darkness  rather  than  light.'  " 

"  Of  course  he  doesn't.  His  business  character  is  simply 
rotten.  His  '  scheme  of  salvation '  still  gives  him  a  chance. 
Yours  doesn't :  don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  But  what  do  you  know  about  his  business,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Well,  several  things.  And  I've  paid  a  good  price  for 
my  knowledge.  For  instance,  I  owned  a  share  in  a  silver- 
mine  in  Colorado.  It  was  a  stock-company.  I  had  been 
out  and  inspected  it,  found  it  all  right,  and  was  going  to  buy 
more  shares.  He  also  found  out  its  value.  Then,  by  secret 
agents,  he  got  in  his  hands  enough  of  the  stock  to  control 
it,  and  then  turned  the  water  into  it,  filled  it  full,  and  let 
it  stand.  The  rest  of  us,  being  in  a  minority,  could  do  noth 
ing.  He  '  froze  us  all  out,'  as  it  is  called ;  i.e.,  made  the 
mine  so  valueless  that  stock  was  worth  nothing,  and  the  own 
ers  had  to  sell  for  a  song.  I  could  stand  it ;  but  it  ruined 
some  who  had  invested  there  all  they  had.  After  he  got  — 


1 68  BLUFFTON. 

that  is,  stole  —  all  the  other  stock,  then  he  turned  to,  cleared 
the  mine,  and  made  a  pile  out  of  it. 

"  That's  the  kind  of  money  he  helps  on  the  Lord's  cause 
with." 

"  Does  he  do  such  things  often  ?  " 

"  No  oftener  than  he  gets  a  chance.  He's  always  honest 
when  he  can't  help  it.  I  happen  to  know  that  he  is  in  the 
habit  of  '  doctoring  '  his  accounts  and  books  so  as  to  make 
them  look  all  right  to  the  men  whose  money  he  is  using ;  and 
then  suddenly,  through  a  mysterious  dispensation  of  Provi 
dence,  he  will  fail.  And  then  he  is  able  to  get  a  new  car 
riage  and  a  span." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  a  man  can  live  like  that." 

"  But  facts  '  lay  over '  possibilities.  Take  another  little 
transaction.  I  owned  a  piece  of  ground  that  he  wanted. 
I  also  wanted  it,  and  so  refused  to  sell.  He  went  and 
hunted  up  all  the  old  titles  from  the  first,  and  found  some 
where,  forty  or  fifty  years  back,  a  legal  flaw,  of  which  I 
knew  nothing,  and  that  in  equity  of  course  did  not 
touch  my  right  of  possession.  Then  he  comes  and 
says,  '  You  can  sell  at  my  price,  or  I'll  take  it  away  from 
you.'  I  was  helpless,  and  had  to  submit.  Now,  it  isn't  any 
particular  wonder  that  a  man  whose  '  best  holt,"  as  they  say, 
is  piety,  should  look  with  slight  disfavor  on  a  man  who 
knows  such  things  about  him." 

"  Well,  I  should  think  not." 

"  I  must  give  you  just  one  more  taste  of  his  righteous 
ness.  Not  long  since,  through  the  failure  of  a  man  he  was 
dealing  with,  about  three  hundred  barrels  of  flour  came  into 


AN    EXCHANGE   AT    MAPLE    CITY.  169 

his  hands.  It  was  of  the  very  poorest  quality,  made  of 
damaged  wheat.  While  it  lay  in  the  storehouse,  he  sent  a 
man  to  remove  all  the  brands,  and  with  a  little  fresh  paint 
transformed  the  whole  lot  into  the  finest  quality  of  St.  Louis 
flour,  making,  by  a  simple  mark  on  the  head,  a  difference 
of  some  three  or  four  dollars  a  barrel. 

"  But  the  best  of  it  was  afterward.  The  next  Sunday  he 
addressed  the  Sunday  school  on  the  cross  of  Christ,  and 
mingled  his  tears  with  theirs  over  his  own  pathos.  And  at 
the  close,  he  told  them  that  since  the  Lord  had  been 
singularly  kind  to  him  during  the  past  week,  and  had 
specially  blessed  his  humble  efforts  to  make  money  for  His 
own  cause,  he  would  therefore  make  them  a  present  of  a 
new  library,  —  the  old  one  to  be  sent  to  some  other  needy 
school;  and  he  also  had  some  pictures  and  mottoes  hung 
up  about  the  room,  the  two  most  conspicuous  of  them 
being,  '  Honesty  is  the  best  policy,'  and  '  Virtue  is  its  own 
reward.' 

"  Oh,  but  he's  a  model !  " 

"  Well,  Tom,  no  wonder  he  dislikes  you." 

"  But,"  said  he  with  an  ironical  tone,  "  it's  only  my  '  in 
fidelity  '  he  dislikes." 

"You  know,  Tom,"  said  Mark,  changing  the  subject  with 
the  air  of  one  who  had  got  all  of  that  he  wanted,  "  that 
Smiley  had  a  sister ;  did  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes :  I  know  a  good  deal  about  her,  but  I  never  saw 
her." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  know  about  her  ?  I  have  my  reasons 
for  wishing  to  know." 


1 7O  BLUFFTON. 

"  I  know  this :  All  the  family  is  dead  except  Smiley  and 
this  one  sister,  Mary.  She  was  the  youngest  child,  and  must 
be  about  nineteen  or  twenty,  I  should  guess.  I  have  heard 
she  was  frail,  apparently  timid,  and  yet  has  a  will  of  her 
own." 

"  Has  Smiley  been  kind  to  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  before  people.  But  he  is  her  legal  guardian ;  and 
the  father,  a  hard  old  man,  left  her  share  of  the  property  in 
Smiley's  hands,  so  that  she  comes  into  it  only  on  condition 
that  she  marries  to  suit  him.  The  old  gentleman  thought 
women  and  girls  should  never  be  trusted,  but  ought  to  obey 
the  father  or  brothers ;  and  Smiley  was  his  pet,  a  boy  after 
his  own  heart.  So  the  story  runs.  And  indeed,  when  I  first 
met  Smiley,  he  pretended  confidences,  and  told  me  much 
of  it  himself." 

"  But  she  hasn't  been  in  Bluffton  since  I  came  West." 

"  No :  she  lives  a  part  of  the  time  East ;  has  been  at 
school,  and  visiting  with  friends.  So  of  course  you  haven't 
seen  her  either." 

"  I  am  quite  familiar  with  her  face,"  said  Mark  equiv 
ocally.  And  he  added,  "  I  have  often  seen  her  photograph, 
so  I  should  know  her  anywhere.  She  is  quite  a  favorite  in 
Bluffton;  and,  indeed,  Madge  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to 
her.  So  I  almost  feel  as  if  I  knew  her." 

"But  do  you  know  Smiley's  latest  persecution  of  her? " 

"About  her  engagement?  " 

"Yes." 

"I  have  heard  something.  What  is  it?"  For  Mark 
wished  to  know  if  it  corresponded  with  what  he  had  heard 
from  another  source. 


AN    EXCHANGE    AT    MAPLE    CITY.  I/I 

"  Well,  she  became  engaged,  without  consulting  the  high 
and  mighty  Smiley,  to  a  capital  fellow  from  Denver  City. 
His  crime  was,  that  he  had  his  fortune  still  to  make,  though 
he  was  in  a  fair  way  to  make  it.  Smiley  himself  had  fixed 
it  up,  that  she  was  to  marry  one  of  his  partners  in  a  big 
speculation,  so  that  he  could  get  a  bigger  finger  in  the  af 
fair  through  family  influence.  For  his  sister,  like  every  thing 
and  everybody  else,  is  only  to  him  so  much  available  means 
in  the  money  market." 

"Yes,  that  sounds  like  what  she  told  me,"  mused  Mark, 
without  thinking  what  he  was  saying. 

" She  told  you  :  who  told  you?  "  quickly  inquired  Tom. 

Mark  saw  that  he  had  almost  let  slip  his  secret  prema 
turely  ;  but  he  rallied,  and  replied,  — 

"  Oh,  a  lady  friend  I  met  in  New  York  !  She  seemed  to 
know  all  about  it,  and  we  talked  it  over  together." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Tom  :  "  your  answer  was  so  queer  that  it 
startled  me  a  bit." 

Mark  did  not  choose  to  explain,  and  so  continued,  — 

"  But  do  you  know  what  is  to  come  of  it?  " 

"Only  that  she  rushed  East  suddenly  a  year  ago,  just 
before  you  came,  to  escape  Smiley's  persecutions,  and  said 
she'd  die  before  she'd  marry  at  anybody's  dictation.  And 
a  strange  rumor  is  afloat  within  the  last  month,  that  she  dis 
appeared  suddenly  from  her  friends  in  Boston,  and  Smiley 
has  been  writing  everywhere  to  get  on  the  track  of  her.  I 
reckon  he  doesn't  care  much,  only  for  the  '  honor '  of  his 
family.  He'll  do  almost  any  thing  to  save  the  family 
reputation.  He'd  even  let  her  marry  her  own  choice,  I 
think,  if  public  opinion  touched  his  pride  in  the  matter." 


1/2  BLUFFTON. 

"  Good  !  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  Tom ;  for  perhaps 
his  pride  will  help  me  through  the  matter." 

"  Help  you  through  what  matter  ?  You're  talking  riddles 
now.  What  have  you  got  to  do  about  it  anyway?  " 

"  Perhaps  more  than  you  know.  She  didn't  want  me  to 
let  you  know,  if  I  could  help  it." 

"Well,  what  are  you  talking  about,  Mark?" 

"You  said  a  little  while  ago,  that  you  had  never  seen 
Miss  Smiley." 

"  Of  course  I  said  so ;  for  I  haven't." 

"Yes,  you  have,  Tom;  for  she  dined  with  us  to-day." 

"  Good  heavens !  you  don't  mean  it !  This  beautiful 
young  woman  you  brought  from  New  York  "  — 

"  Is  Smiley's  sister,  Tom.     There,  it's  out  now." 

"  Well,  this  is  dramatic  enough.  Why  in  creation  didn't 
you  tell  me  so  before?" 

"  It  was  her  wish  that  I  shouldn't,  and  you  are  not  to 
know  her  even  now.  I  told  you  because  I  thought  perhaps 
you  might  help  me  work  on  Smiley  so  as  to  save  her." 

"  But  this  is  stranger  than  what  usually  goes  for  fiction. 
If  it  was  Smiley  himself,  I  don't  think  I  should  be  over 
anxious  to  save  him.  But,  by  Jove,  I  do  pity  the  girl ;  and 
I'm  with  you  to  the  extent  of  any  thing  I  can  do." 

"And  yet,  remember,  I've  promised  her  not  to  reveal 
her  till  she  consents.  She's  evidently  afraid  of  her  brother, 
and  thinks  he  will  cast  her  off." 

"Let  him  cast,  if  he  will.  I  know  the  man  she's  en 
gaged  to,  and  he's  a  generous,  noble  fellow.  When  he 
knows  her  story,  he's  a  different  man  from  what  I  think  him, 


AN    EXCHANGE    AT    MAPLE    CITY.  1/3 

if  he  doesn't  take  her  to  his  heart.  Her  suffering,  and 
even  the  touch  of  sin,  —  if  there  is  any,  —  was  all  for  his 
sake ;  and  he's  a  villain  if  he  deserts  her." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that  of  him,  for  it  looks  like  a 
streak  of  daylight.  If  men  were  only  a  little  more  sensible, 
there'd  be  less  ruin  in  the  world." 


174  BLUFFTON. 


XVIII. 

THE   COUNCIL. 

THURSDAY  came,  and  with  it  the  gathering  of  minis 
ters  and  delegates  from  all  the  Bluffton  association. 
The  town  was  excited.  It  was  usually  dull;  for  only  the 
commoner  class  of  peripatetic  amusements  and  theatrical 
troupes  ever  visited  the  place ;  and  these  did  not  furnish 
entertainment  for  the  church-members,  because  they  never 
attended  such  things  —  except  when  they  were  away  from 
home.  Perhaps  it  would  be  unjust  to  say  that  hundreds 
of  people  were  glad  there  was  going  to  be  a  trial ;  and  yet, 
since  there  was  going  to  be  a  trial,  hundreds  were  glad  they 
could  go.  Perhaps  people  do  not  like  to  have  their  neigh 
bors  houses  burn  up  ;  but,  if  they  are  going  to  burn,  they  do 
like  to  see  the  fire.  So  everybody  prepared  to  be  present, 
and  see  the  permitted  entertainment  that  was  going  to 
be  exhibited  free. 

Mr.  Forrest  had  had  a  most  painful  meeting  and  parting 
with  Madge.  He  knew  by  her  face  that  the  night  had 
been  spent  in  weeping  more  than  in  sleep.  But  now  she 
was  calm  with  the  calmness  of  one  prepared  in  prison  for 
the  inevitable  execution.  It  was  not  Mark  only,  who  was 


THE    COUNCIL.  1/5 

to  be  tried :  her  own  destiny  was  to  be  passed  upon ;  and 
already  she  saw  herself  alone,  with  all  she  had  learned  to 
look  upon  as  fairest  and  sweetest  in  the  future,  blasted  and 
turned  to  a  desolation. 

They  sat  together  a  half-hour  in  silence,  brooding  over 
their  own  thoughts.  Then  the  tears  started  in  Madge's  eyes, 
and  she  cried,  — 

"  O  Mark,  Mark  !     Is  there  no  way  out  of  it  even  yet  ?  " 

"  I  can  only  take  the  next  step  that  is  clear,  dear  Madge ; 
and  what  will  follow,  God  only  knows." 

And  now  for  a  moment  she  lost  control  of  herself,  and, 
out  of  the  anguish  of  her  love,  entreated,  plead,  and  almost 
upbraided  him,  as  though  he  had  willingly  brought  it  upon 
them.  Then  she  begged  his  forgiveness,  and  said, — 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  say.  I'm  cruel :  as  though  it  were 
not  hard  for  you,  as  well  as  for  me  !  " 

He  comforted  her  as  best  he  could,  and  then  they  parted. 
Once  more  he  was  to  see  her,  and  then  —  what  then,  he 
dared  not  allow  himself  to  think. 

The  hour  for  the  council  was  called.  The  church  was 
full.  The  moderator  and  scribe  were  chosen,  and  they 
were  ready  for  business. 

On  behalf  of  the  church,  Mr.  Smiley  had  been  chosen 
to  present  the  charges  against  their  pastor's  orthodoxy ; 
and,  when  he  was  through,  it  was  understood  that  any  of 
the  ministers  of  the  association  were  at  liberty  to  relate  any 
conversations  or  teachings,  of  which  they  might  have  knowl 
edge,  that  bore  on  either  side  of  the  question. 

Being  called  on  to  present  his  charges,  Mr.  Smiley  rose 
and  said,  — 


1/  BLUFFTON. 

"Mr.  Moderator,  and  gentlemen  of  the  council,  you 
will  pardon  me,  if,  out  of  the  fulness  of  my  heart,  I  say 
one  personal  word  before  I  proceed  to  read  the  paper  I 
hold  in  my  hand.  I  loved  our  minister  like  a  brother." 
Here  he  stopped,  took  out  and  carefully  unfolded  a  scented 
handkerchief,  and  delicately  wiped  his  eyes.  "  Excuse  me," 
he  said,  "  for  thus  obtruding  my  personal  feelings  on  a 
public  audience ;  but  you  do  not  know  how  hard  it  is  to 
testify  against  your  own  minister  of  the  gospel." 

"  Oh,  but  he's  just  an  angel,  he  is  !  "  whispered  Mrs.  Buck 
to  aunt  Sally  Rawson. 

"  Angel  a  heap  !  "  said  Jane  Ann,  who  overheard  the 
aside.  "Take  my  word  for  it,  he's  got  more  hoofs  than 
wings." 

"Jane  Ann,  shet  your  mouth,"  said  Aunt  Sally,  "and 
don't  you  let  me  hear  you  slanderin'  yer  betters  agin." 

But  Brother  Smiley  proceeded,  — 

"Yes,  I  loved  him  like  a  brother.  And  I  wish  that  it 
might  fall  to  other  lips  than  mine  to  speak  what  stern  duty 
compels  me  to  say."  (As  a  fact,  he  had  log-rolled  for  the 
position  of  prominence  and  leadership,  like  a  ward-room 
politician.)  "And  now,"  he  continued,  "I  must  intimate 
beforehand  that  theological  looseness  is  bad  enough,  —  yes, 
bad  enough,"  he  repeated  emphatically ;  "  but  what  shall  be 
said  when  looseness  concerning  the  gospel  issues  in  its 
natural  results  of  looseness  of  life?  Yes,"  he  repeated, 
seeing  the  sensation  his  last  words  created,  "looseness  of 
life,  my  brethren.  But,  however,  let  that  pass  for  the  present, 
my  brethren.  It  must  come  up  in  its  own  place.  We  will 


THE    COUNCIL.  1 77 

attend  to  one  thing  at  a  time ;  and  either  one  or  the  other 
will  be  enough  to  sadden  all  our  hearts,  —  yes,  sadden  all  our 
hearts,  my  brethren.  Excuse  these  tears,  but  nature  will 
have  way." 

"  Oh  the  old  hound  ! "  vehemently  exclaimed  uncle  Zeke 
to  Judge  Harrington,  as  they  stood  with  a  little  knot  of 
sympathizers  just  out  of  the  door,  in  the  edge  of  the  vesti 
bule.  "I  know  he's  a-lying  when  he  speaks  agin  Mr. 
Forrest's  character." 

"Of  course  he's  a-lying,"  replied  Judge  Harrington. 
"  You  take  that  as  a  matter  of  course,  unless  you  know  the 
contrary;  and  in  this  case  the  fee  is  on  the  Devil's  side, 
and  you  don't  catch  him  telling  the  truth  unless  it  pays 
high." 

"  Ef  the  days  o'  mericles  weren't  over,  we  might  see  Ana 
nias  and  Sapphiry  over  agin,"  added  uncle  Zeke. 

Meantime,  sublimely  unconscious  of  comments,  and 
swelling  with  pious  importance,  Mr.  Smiley  continued,  — 

"  First,  then,  Mr.  Moderator,  it  is  my  painful  duty  to 
present  charges  and  specifications  as  to  his  theological 
soundness ;  or,  to  speak  more  accurately,  unsoundness,  my 
brethren.  Allow  me,  then,  to  read  the  following  paper. 

'CHARGE  FIRST. 

"  'The  Rev.  Mark  Forrest,  being  a  minister  of  the  orthodox 
church,  and  a  member  of  this  association,  and  pastor  of  the 
church  in  Bluffton,  has  been  unfaithful  to  his  position  as  a 
maintainer  of  the  pure  faith  of  the  gospel. 

" '  Specification  First.  —  He  is  in  the  habit  of  using  very 


1/8  BLUFFTON. 

doubtful  language  in  respect  to  fundamental  doctrines.  His 
trumpet  does  give  a  most  uncertain  sound.  For  instance, 
in  sundry  sermons  and  prayer-meeting  talks,  and  in  essays 
read  at  various  associations,  he  has  spoken  heretically,  or 
neglected  to  speak  at  all,  concerning  the  following  doctrines, 
to  wit :  the  fall  of  man  in  Adam,  and  their  just  condemna 
tion  therefore  to  all  the  ills  that  the  human  race  has  suffered ; 
the  doctrine  of  total  depravity ;  the  atonement  through  the 
sacrificial  blood  of  Christ ;  election  by  grace ;  the  infallibil 
ity  of  the  Bible;  and  the  everlasting  punishment  of  the 
wicked. 

" '  Specification  Second.  —  He  is  known  to  fraternize  with 
such  men  as  Judge  Harrington  and  uncle  Zeke  on  the  hill ; 
and  when  they  say  they  like  his  doctrine  because  it  is  differ 
ent  from  the  old  style,  instead  of  rebuking  them,  he  accepts 
of  their  approval. 

"'Specification  Third.  —  In  an  essay  read  at  the  associa 
tion  held  in  Slidell,  he  expressed  his  belief  in  the  horrible 
teachings  of  Darwin  and  modern  science ;  and,  further,  in  a 
debate,  defended  the  character  of  that  arch-infidel  Theodore 
Parker. 

" '  Specification  Fourth.  —  At  the  funeral  of  the  late  Mrs. 
Grey,  a  notorious  infidel,  who  by  guile  had  won  the  hearts 
of  many  of  our  young  people  from  the  truth,  he  dared  to 
hold  her  up  as  a  model ;  and  he  accompanied  his  remarks 
with  certain  ill- concealed  hits  at  those  who  hold  to  '  salva 
tion  by  faith,'  and  do  not  trust,  as  she  did,  to  works. 

" '  Specification  Fifth.  —  He  has  preached  against  the 
special  providence  of  God,  and  assigned  matters  of  his 


THE   COUNCIL. 

government  to  natural  causes.  As,  for  example,  referring 
to  a  fire  in  the  neighboring  town,  he  denied  that  there  was 
any  proof  that  it  was  a  judgment  of  God ;  and  said  that 
he  thought  the  cow  that  kicked  the  lamp  over  had  more 
to  do  with  it  than  the  sins  of  the  people.  And  in  like 
manner  he  has  charged  diseases  on  a  lack  of  sanitary  care 
rather  than  the  wrath  of  God.' 

"  These,  brethren,  are  enough.  We  had  written  out  sev 
eral  more ;  but  they  are  unnecessary.  We  lay  this  charge 
before  you  for  your  consideration.  I  would  not  prejudice 
your  minds  beforehand ;  and  yet  it  is  only  fair  to  intimate 
that  the  matter  of  our  second  charge  is  far  more  serious,  so 
far  as  his  character  is  concerned,  though  this  one  touches 
far  more  closely  the  integrity  of  the  gospel.  For  one  may 
be  a  great  sinner,  —  as  I  fear  he  is,  my  brethren,  —  and  yet 
be  forgiven  and  saved  by  the  atoning  blood ;  but,  if  the 
*  foundation  be  destroyed,  what  shall  the  righteous  do  ? ' ' 

And  he  sat  down  as  though  he  felt  sure  that  so  fitting  a 
Scripture-quotation  must  touch  all  right-feeling  hearts. 

Then  followed  remarks  from  various  neighboring  minis 
ters,  telling  how  they  had  been  scandalized  by  the  position 
Mr.  Forrest  had  taken  at  different  ministerial  and  church 
gatherings.  His  influence,  they  thought,  over  the  neighbor 
ing  part  of  the  State,  was  unfortunate.  And  particularly  did 
it  appear,  that  in  their  several  towns,  when  Mr.  Forrest  came 
to  speak  and  preach,  various  and  sundry  sinners,  never  at 
other  times  seen  in  the  sanctuary,  would  come  out  in  full 
force,  and  praise  his  sermons,  and  say  they  would  go  to  hear 
such  common-sense  preaching  as  that  every  Sunday  in  the 


l8O  BLUFFTON. 

year ;  all  of  which  was  to  the  great  detriment  of  the  pure 
word  of  life  as  they  dispensed  it. 

"And,"  said  one,  "it  is  not  to  be  put  up  with,  my 
brethren.  Shall  carnal  men,  led  astray  by  their  carnal  rea 
son,  say  the  gospel  is  common  sense?  It  is  not  common 
sense,  my  brethren  :  it  is  a  mystery,  —  the  mystery  of  god 
liness,  known  only  to  the  elect." 

"  Yis,"  said  uncle  Zeke,  familiarly  tucking  Judge  Harring 
ton  in  the  ribs  :  "  that's  so.  I  heard  that  feller  preach  onct ; 
and,  sure  'nough,  'twas  a  mystery,  —  couldn't  make  head 
nor  tail  out  on't." 

But  now  the  minister  from  Maple  City,  one  of  those  who 
had  urged  Mr.  Forrest  to  stand  the  trial,  rose  and  said,  — 

"Mr.  Moderator,  and  brethren,  it  is  now  time  that  at 
least  a  word  were  spoken  on  the  other  side.  There  are 
several  of  us  ministers  in  this  association,  who  feel  that  we 
are  on  trial  as  well  as  Mr.  Forrest.  If  he  belongs  out  of 
our  ministry,  then  we  have  no  right  to  remain.  We  have 
urged  him  to  stand  this  trial,  that  the  matter  might  he 
brought  to  a  test.  We  are  perpetually  being  taunted  by  the 
men  of  science,  and  the  freer  newspaper  press,  because,  as 
they  say,  we  orthodox  churches  allow  no  intellectual  freedom 
in  our  pulpits.  I  have  been  accustomed  to  resent  and  deny 
this  charge.  And  yet,  if  Mr.  Forrest  is  to-day  condemned, 
my  mouth  will  be  shut,  and  I  shall  have  to  confess,  that, 
so  far  as  this  association  is  concerned,  the  charge  is  true. 

"What,  my  friends,  has  Mr.  Forrest  done?  He  has 
preached  a  gospel  of  character  and  life.  Are  you  ready  to 
confess  that  you  do  not  want  these  things  preached  ?  Then 


THE    COUNCIL.  l8l 

indeed  will  the  street  taunt,  that  church-morality  is  below  the 
market,  be  justified.  He  has  also  studied  all  the  modern 
questions  of  the  world  in  the  light  of  science  and  scientific 
criticism.  Can  we  afford  to  confess  that  we  are  unwilling  to 
have  the  foundations  of  our  faith  examined?  The  bank 
that  is  not  willing  to  have  its  accounts  looked  into  is  the  one 
from  which  sensible  and  honest  men  will  withdraw  their 
deposits. 

"  I,  for  one,  am  ashamed  of  the  course  which  so  many 
churches  take  with  their  ministers.  Do  the  pews  pretend  to 
have  studied  and  understood  all  these  great  themes?  The 
idea  is  preposterous.  And  yet,  in  their  ignorance,  they 
undertake  to  decide  as  to  what  the  minister  shall  declare 
to  be  true." 

"  Ugh  !  the  insultin'  wretch  !  To  call  us  ignorant ! "  ex 
claimed  aunt  Sally  Rawson,  under  her  breath. 

"  Give  it  to  'em  !  good  for  you  !  "  chuckled  uncle  Zeke. 

But  the  minister,  unconscious  of  these  "  asides,"  con 
tinued,  — 

"You  put  a  premium  on  the  ignorance  and  dishonesty 
of  your  ministers.  You  make  it  a  crime  to  study  and  learn 
any  thing  new ;  and  you  make  it  a  virtue  in  them  to  cover 
up  and  refuse  to  speak  any  new  word  of  the  Lord  that  may 
come  to  them.  You  make  the  bread  and  butter  of  their 
wives  and  children  depend  on  their  echoing  your  threadbare 
thoughts,  instead  of  inviting  them  to  go  forward  and  be 
your  leaders.  Do  you  think  that  God  is  dead,  or  that  he 
has  no  way  of  getting  access  to  human  hearts  to-day? 

"  If  the  ministers  of  our  churches   are   not  to  be   per- 


1 82  BLUFFTON. 

mitted  to  study  all  through  God's  universe,  and  take  his  truth 
wherever  they  find  it  as  their  rightful  heritage  as  his  chil 
dren,  then  there  are  many  of  us  who  will  be  glad  to  find  it 
out;  and  we  shall  discover  ways  of  making  for  ourselves 
platforms  where  we  can  speak,  and  where  free  and  brave 
and  intelligent  men  and  women  will  listen  to  us." 

A  vigorous  round  of  applause  followed  this  brave  chal 
lenge.  But  when  the  vote  was  called,  stupidity  and  preju 
dice —  as  is  usually  the  case  —  were  found  to  have  a 
numerical  majority ;  and  Mr.  Forrest  was  condemned  as 
heretical  by  a  majority  of  three  votes  on  the  part  of  the 
qualified  members  of  the  council. 

And  now  Mr.  Smiley,  with  the  air  of  one  whose  righteous 
course  Providence  had  at  last  justified,  arose  again.  He 
pulled  out  his  handkerchief,  and  prepared  for  another  spon 
taneous  display  of  emotion. 

"  Brethren,"  said  he,  "  satisfaction  at  the  vindication  of 
the  cause  of  the  Lord,  and  sorrow  for  my  erring  brother,, 
contend  so  for  mastery  in  my  soul,  that  you  must  not  be 
surprised  if  you  see  me  agitated.  A  righteous  judgment 
has  been  reached,  my  brethren,  as  to  these  theological  vaga 
ries,  in  spite  of  the  unwise  and  ungodly  defence  of  some 
whom  pride  of  heart  has  led  astray,"  he  looked  around 
at  the  Maple  City  minister,  —  "and  yet,  as  I  gave  you 
timely  warning,  this  is  not  all,  my  brethren,  this  is  not  all. 
I  might  wish  that  the  honor  of  God's  Zion  could  have  been 
spared  this  disgrace ;  but,  my  brethren,  the  ways  of  the 
Lord  are  mysterious,  and  perhaps  we  needed  this  chastise 
ment.  Perhaps,  my  brethren,  only  a  humble  member  of 


THE    COUNCIL.  183 

this  branch  of  our  common  Zion,  —  perhaps  I  needed  to  be 
humbled  by  being  a  member  of  a  church  whose  minister 
should  do  such  an  unheard-of  thing  in  the  camp  of  the 
Lord. 

"  It  is  now  my  painful  duty,  brethren,  to  read  our 

'SECOND  CHARGE. 

" '  We  charge  that  the  Rev.  Mark  Forrest,  being  a  min 
ister  of  the  gospel,  and  pastor  of  this  church  in  particu 
lar,  has  grossly  shamed  his  office,  and  brought  disgrace 
upon  the  cause  of  Christ,  as  shall  be  indicated  in  the  follow 
ing  specifications. 

"'Specification  First.  —  While  on  a  recent  visit  to  New 
York,  the  said  Rev.  Mark  Forrest  was  seen,  by  those  pre 
pared  to  testify  to  the  same,  to  visit  a  certain  house  of  noto 
rious  character,  in  a  disreputable  part  of  the  city.' " 

"  Mark,  I'm  not  going  to  stand  this,"  fiercely  exclaimed 
Tom  Winthrop  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  where  he  sat  by  the 
side  of  his  friend. 

"  Yes,  you  are  :  keep  still,"  calmly  replied  Mark. 

"  But  it's  an  outrage  on  public  decency." 

"  No  matter.  I've  promised ;  keep  still.  He  can't  out 
rage  any  decency,"  said  he  with  quiet  contempt.  "  At  any 
rate,  hear  him  through." 

" '  Specification  Second.  —  This  same  Rev.  Mark  Forrest, 
on  leaving  New  York,  travelled  in  company  with  an  un 
known  woman,  whom  he  has  left  concealed  at  Maple  City. 

" '  Specification  Third.  — And  only  last  Sunday  —  beside  at 
least  one  previous  visit  —  he  visited  this  aforesaid  unknown 
woman,  and  was  actually  seen  in  her  company.' 


184  BLUFFTON. 

"And  now,  my  brethren," — and  he  stopped  once  more  to 
cough,  and  wipe  his  eyes,  though  there  appeared  a  lament 
able  dearth  of  moisture,  —  "  my  painful  duty  is  accom 
plished.  No  one  knows  so  well  as  my  humble  self,  with 
what  painful  reluctance  it  has  been  performed.  But,  my 
brethren,  the  Lord's  cause  must  be  vindicated,  and  his 
Church  purged  from  corruption.  I  therefore  wish  to  bring 
this  unspeakably  painful  scene  to  a  close.  To  that  end, 
with  your  permission,  Mr.  Moderator,  I  will  read  a  resolution 
which  has  just  been  handed  me."  (He  had  written  it  him 
self  that  morning,  and  put  it  into  the  hands  of  a  clerk  to 
give  to  him  at  the  proper  time.  He  wished  it  to  appear  as 
prepared  by  some  one  else  equally  anxious  with  himself  for 
the  purity  of  Zion.)  "  This  resolution  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  Resolved,  —  That  it  is  the  sense  of  this  council  of  ministers  and 
fathers  in  the  Church,  that  the  Rev.  Mark  Forrest  be  deposed  from 
the  ministry  of  the  gospel,  of  which  he  has  shown  himself  unworthy ; 
and  that  the  churches  of  our  common  faith  be  duly  apprised  of  his 
misdemeanors,  and  warned  that  he  is  not  a  suitable  person  to  admit  to 
their  pulpits." 

He  had  hardly  finished  reading,  when  the  smothered 
excitement  and  indignation  broke  out ;  and  cries  of  "  No, 
no  !  "  "  No  gag-law  !  "  "  Proof,  proof !  "  arose  from  several 
parts  of  the  house. 

"  Why  do  the  heathen  rage  agin  the  Lord's  anointed  ?  " 
piously  ejaculated  old  Mrs.  Buck. 

"  It's  a  confounded  outrage  !  "  shouted  old  uncle  Zeke. 

"  Mr.  Moderator,"  called  out  Judge  Harrington,  "  though 
not  a  member  of  this  council,  I  am  a  member  of  this  town, 


THE    COUNCIL.  185 

and  a  friend  of  Mr.  Forrest.  This  is  indecent  and  lawless ; 
and  in  the  name  of  justice  I  protest." 

The  apoplectic  face  of  Mr.  Smiley  was  now  flushed  and 
red  with  disappointment,  and  then  lividly  pale  with  rage. 
His  policy  forsook  him  for  a  moment ;  his  smile  that  he 
wore  was  lost  in  the  underlying  deep  sea  of  hate  that  came 
to  the  surface,  and  swamped  it  as  bubbles  are  lost  in  a  storm. 
He  tried  to  gain  the  ear  of  the  house ;  but  there  were 
enough  present  who  were  in  no  mood  to  hear  him  further, 
to  prevent  it.  In  the  midst  of  the  general  excitement,  Mr. 
Winthrop  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  closed  an  excited  consul 
tation  with  Mr.  Forrest  by  exclaiming,  — 

"  No,  Mark,  I'll  bear  it  no  longer.  This  is  too  much  for 
any  promise  made  in  the  dark.  It's  better  so.  I  see  day 
light  now." 

He  leaped  on  the  platform  by  the  pulpit,  and  stood 
silent,  pale,  and  determined.  The  sight  of  Mr.  Forrest's  well- 
known  friend  in  this  unusual  position  roused  everybody's 
curiosity,  and  startled  the  house  into  sudden  silence. 

Mr.  Smiley  looked  as  though  he  would  like  to  rend  him 
like  a  tiger ;  but  policy,  —  now  uppermost  again,  —  and  the 
will  of  the  council,  kept  him  still  in  his  seat. 


1 86  BLUFFTON. 


XIX. 

TOM   SPEAKS. 

MR.  MODERATOR,"  calmly  and  deliberately  began 
Mr.  Winthrop,  "  I  am  perfectly  well  aware  that  this 
is  not  formal.  But  this  is  no  time  for  forms.  I  am  not  a 
member  of  this  council ;  and  without  your  permission  I 
have  no  right  to  speak."  —  "  Go  on  !  go  on  !  "  rose  in  deter 
mined  cries  all  over  the  house.  "  But  I  suppose  what  you 
want  is  the  truth,  something  on  the  basis  of  which  you  can 
render  an  impartial  decision.  I  happen  to  be  in  possession 
of  facts  that  have  a  vital  bearing  on  the  question  before  you ; 
but  if  you  do  not  care  to  listen  to  them  in  this  place,  from 
me,  I  shall  find  other  ways  of  bringing  them  to  your  atten 
tion." 

At  this  point  Mr.  Smiley  rose  placidly  to  his  feet,  and 
said, — 

"Mr.  Moderator,  this  is  an  unusual  and  extraordinary 
proceeding.  I  protest "  — 

"  Sit  down  !  Sit  down  !  "  "  Hear  Mr.  Winthrop  !  Hear 
Mr.  Winthrop  !  "  "  Fair  all  round,  I  say  ! "  and  other  such 
impatient  cries,  broke  from  all  parts  of  the  house. 

Mr.  Smiley  saw  it  was  no  use,  and  angrily  gave  way. 


TOM   SPEAKS.  IS/ 

Mr.  Winthrop  proceeded, — 

"  If  you  should  not  hear  me,  friends,  it  would  not  balk 
my  purpose ;  and  yet  I  thank  you  for  permitting  me  to  go 
on." 

Mr.  Forrest  now  sat  with  his  face  in  his  hands,  and,  since 
he  could  do  no  otherwise,  let  his  friend  have  his  way. 

He  said,  — 

"  I  am  the  life-long  personal  friend  of  Mr.  Forrest.  I  am 
proud  of  the  honor;  and  I  will  not  see  him  unjustly 
harmed,  so  long  as  I  have  power  to  stand  in  his  defence. 
Having  known  him  from  a  boy,  I  know  on  what  good 
ground  I  speak,  when  I  say  that  he  is  incapable  of  a  mean 
or  unmanly  thing. 

"You  know  me  well  enough  to  understand  that  I  do  not 
care  to  meddle  in  your  purely  theological  quarrels ;  though 
what  better  a  church  ever  can  do  than  to  build  up  true 
manhood  and  womanhood  in  society,  as  your  minister  has 
tried  to  help  you  do,  is  more  than  I  pretend  to  understand. 

"  I  think  I  know  enough  of  the  men  and  passions  of 
Bluffton  to  know  with  whom  all  this  trouble  has  originated." 

"  Do  you  mean  me,  sir?  "  severely  asked  Mr.  Smiley,  who 
now  rose  to  a  point  of  order. 

"Mr.  Moderator,"  continued  Mr.  Winthrop,  "if  I  am 
not  mistaken,  this  is  an  occasion  on  which  personalities  that 
bear  on  the  trial  are  permitted ;  and,  since  the  character  of 
a  witness  has  some  important  relation  to  his  testimony,  I  am 
willing  to  answer  the  gentleman's  question ; "  and,  turning 
and  looking  him  full  in  the  face,  he  said,  — 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Smiley,  I  mean  you.    And,"  proceeding  rapidly 


1 88  BLUFFTON. 

before  he  could  again  be  interrupted,  "  whenever  the  church 
will  proceed  to  investigate  them,  I  am  ready  to  present 
charges  that  will  convince  the  most  prejudiced  that  it  is 
Mr.  Smiley,  and  not  Mr.  Forrest,  that  ought  to  be  on  trial." 

While  this  was  being  said,  Mr.  Smiley  was  terribly  excited, 
in  spite  of  his  herculean  effort  to  appear  the  typical  meek  and 
lowly  disciple.  He  had  on  his  office-look  when  only  clerks 
and  strangers  were  in ;  and  all  his  prayer-meeting  face  was 
gone.  But  his  efforts  to  control  himself  made  him  look  as 
though  a  compressed  blood-vessel  might  burst  at  any 
moment. 

The  scene  over  the  house  was  one  to  be  remembered. 
Judge  Harrington  looked  happy ;  uncle  Zeke  was  radiant ; 
Deacon  Putney,  the  conflict  not  being  settled,  did  not  yet 
know  how  he  ought  to  look,  and  so  really  did  look  confused 
and  foolish.  Aunt  Sally  and  Mrs.  Buck  were  horror-stricken 
at  an  infidel's  being  in  the  pulpit,  and  appeared  to  expect 
a  lightning- stroke  to  smite  the  church  for  such  "goings-on." 
Jane  Ann  added  to  her  mother's  horror  by  ejaculations  of 
unregenerate  delight  at  seeing  Mr.  Smiley  getting,  for  once, 
what  she  ambiguously  termed  "his  come-uppance." 

But  the  apparent  determination  of  the  house  to  hear  Mr. 
Winthrop  through  brought  everybody  at  last  to  quiet  again, 
and  he  went  on,  — 

"  But  the  main  thing  on  which  I  wish  to  be  heard  is  not  a 
theological  one.  I  happen  to  know  the  facts  of  the  visit  of 
Mr.  Forrest  to  New  York.  He  would  have  kept  still,  and 
allowed  himself  to  be  condemned  through  his  honorable 
fidelity  to  a  sacred  promise.  I  also  —  little  knowing  that 


TOM    SPEAKS.  189 

things  would  come  to  such  a  pass  as  this  —  had  promised  to 
keep  his  secret.  And  I  might  do  so  even  now,  did  I  think  the 
lady's  interest  would  be  perilled  by  my  speaking.  But,  since 
I  now  believe  otherwise,  I  cannot  allow  a  true  man  to  be 
slaughtered  by  the  lying  tongue  of  scandal.  I  have  an 
interesting  story  to  tell,  —  a  story  whose  interest  may  be  pain 
ful  to  some  before  I  am  through,  and  that  ought  to  make 
the  ears  burn  that  listen. 

"  A  certain  beautiful  young  lady  was  the  ward  of  a  domi 
neering  brother.  She  lived,  no  matter  where  as  yet.  She 
was  in  love  with  and  engaged  to  a  noble  man,  that  this 
brother  opposed.  Being  of  a  timid  and  yielding  disposi 
tion,  and  all  her  inherited  property  being  in  her  brother's 
hands,  he  easily  frightened  and  coerced  her  to  his  will.  This 
in  all  ordinary  matters.  But  even  the  weakest  will  some 
times  rebel;  and  when  this  brother  proposed  to  compel 
her  to  marry  another  man  against  her  will,  for  the  purpose 
of  helping  on  some  business  schemes  of  his  own,  she  fled 
from  home,  and  went  to  visit  friends  in  an  Eastern  city. 
She  would  have  sent  for  the  one  to  whom  she  was  engaged, 
and  been  secretly  married,  only  that  she  was  too  proud  to 
tell  him  her  reasons,  and  he  was  not  in  a  business  position 
to  make  it  seem  desirable  as  yet  for  some  time.  Meanwhile 
her  brother  refused  to  send  her  money,  and  she  became 
despondent.  She  thought  of  suicide,  or,  at  any  rate,  did 
not  seem  to  care  what  became  of  her.  Her  friends  watched 
her,  fearing  she  might  lose  her  reason.  One  day  she  disap 
peared.  They  traced  her  to  Fall  River,  and  aboard  the  New 
York  boat,  and  then  lost  the  track.  She  sat  up  late,  and 


IQO  BLUFFTON. 

meditated  flinging  herself  into  the  Sound.  She  would  walk 
the  saloon,  go  out  on  the  deck,  and  watch  the  black  water 
as  it  sped  past,  and  then,  shuddering,  enter  the  saloon  again. 
This  she  did  several  times.  She  wished  for  death,  but 
lacked  the  resolution. 

"  She  had  noticed  that  she  was  watched  by  two  men ;  but 
she  did  not  think  of  fear  on  a  public  boat,  and  she  was  too 
much  absorbed  in  her  own  sorrow  to  keep  watch  of  their 
movements.  Toward  midnight,  as  she  passed,  with  her 
head  down,  by  the  long  rows  of  staterooms,  a  door  suddenly 
opened,  she  felt  herself  dragged  irresistibly  in,  and,  before 
she  could  open  her  lips  to  scream,  she  was  gagged  and 
bound. 

"  When  she  came  to  herself  she  awoke  in  a  room  most 
gorgeously  furnished,  and,  to  her  horror,  discovered  what  had 
passed  and  where  she  was.  She  was  an  involuntary  inhabit 
ant  of  one  of  the  gilded  dens  of  vice  in  the  great  metropo 
lis.  Here  was  something  worse  than  the  death  she  sought. 
At  first  she  was  frantic :  she  determined  to  escape  at  all 
hazards.  And  then  the  appalling  thought  came  over  her, 
that  she  was  branded  now,  and  past  hope.  No  one  would 
believe  her  story.  They  would  think  she  had  come  there 
by  her  own  fault.  If  her  brother  had  been  cruel  before, 
what  would  his  wounded  pride  make  him  now  ?  And  she 
knew  him  so  well  as  to  feel  that  perhaps,  since  she  would 
not  marry  the  man  he  had  chosen  to  further  his  own  inter 
ests,  he  would  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  her,  and  so  get  her  fortune 
that  he  now  held  only  in  trust.  And  then  her  lover,  —  of 
course  he  was  now  lost  forever  :  he  would  never  take  a  wife 


TOM    SPEAKS.  IQI 

whose  reputation  was  tainted.  And  how  could  she  face  the 
world?  They  would  point  their  fingers,  and  hiss  through 
their  teeth,  in  whatever  station  she  might  move.  What  won 
der  if,  under  such  considerations',  her  resolution  to  escape 
gave  way,  and  she  made  up  her  mind  to  submit  to  what 
seemed  the  inevitable? 

"  Just  now  Mr.  Forrest  was  in  New  York." 

At  this  point  the  listening  was  breathless ;  and  Mr.  Smiley, 
in  particular,  looked  on  Mr.  Winthrop  like  a  fascinated 
thing.  But  he  went  on,  — 

"  He  visited  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  who  is  an  old  phy 
sician.  He  had  an  patient  among  this  class  of  women 
where  the  poor  victim  was  now  a  prisoner.  One  morning 
as  he  started  on  his  calls,  —  if  I  ever  believed  in  special 
providences,  I  should  say  the  Divine  Spirit  prompted  him  to 
invite  Mr.  Forrest  to  go  with  him. 

" '  Come,'  he  said,  '  I  must  make  a  professional  call.  Go 
with  me,  and  we  can  talk  as  we  go.' 

"  Thus  invited,  he  went.  And  this  is  the  substance  of  Mr. 
Smiley's  first  specification  under  his  second  charge.  But 
more  is  to  come. 

"  As  they  passed  through  the  hall,  Mr.  Forrest  caught  sight 
of  a  face  that  was  familiar  from  photographs  he  had  seen. 
Having  a  singular  memory  for  faces,  he  was  sure  he  was  not 
mistaken.  He  looked  again ;  and,  astonished  though  he  was, 
he  felt  sure  of  the  identity.  As  the  woman  passed,  he  said, 
looking  her  full  in  the  face,  — 

" '  Good-morning,  Mary.' 

Mr.  Smiley  started  as  if  some  one  had  struck  him,  but 
was  perfectly  still. 


1 92  BLUFFTON. 

"  She,  not  being  willing  to  be  recognized  in  a  place  like 
this,  looked  on  him  calmly  as  she  could,  and  said,  — 

" '  My  name  is  not  Mary.  Why  do  you  speak  to  me  ?  I 
do  not  know  you.' 

" '  Yet  your  name  is  Mary,'  said  he ;  and  she  passed  on. 

"  When  the  medical  call  was  over,  and  they  were  return 
ing  through  the  hall  again,  Mr.  Forrest  noticed  that  the  par 
lor  door  was  open ;  and,  as  he  glanced  in,  the  same  woman 
stood  by  the  mantel,  and  beckoned  to  him.  Excusing  him 
self  from  the  doctor,  he  went  in,  and  stood  before  her. 

" '  Why  did  you  call  me  Mary  ? '  said  she. 

" '  Because  that  is  your  name,'  he  quietly  replied.  '  I  have 
seen  your  photograph  too  often  not  to  know  you.  Why  are 
you  here  ? ' 

"  She  knew  him  also  by  pictures  of  him  she  had  seen, 
though  till  now  she  was  not  ready  to  acknowledge  it. 

" '  Mr.  Forrest,'  she  said,  and  broke  down,  sobbing,  '  I  am 
lost.' 

" '  Perhaps  not,'  said  he.     '  Do  you  want  to  stay  here  ? ' 

" '  O  God,  no  ! '  she  sobbed ;  '  but  where  can  I  go  ?  what 
can  I  do  ? ' 

" '  Sit  down  here  calmly,  and  let  us  talk,'  said  he. 

"When  she  had  told  him  her  whole  story,  she  con 
tinued,  — 

" '  But  I  can't  go  back  to  my  brother :  he'll  not  take  me. 
The  man  I  was  to  marry  will  turn  away  from  me.  I  may  as 
well  stay  here.  Only  don't  tell  any  one  where  I  am,'  she 
desperately  pleaded. 

" '  But,  since  you  do  not  want  to  stay  here,  it  is  worth  while 


TOM    SPEAKS.  193 

to  try  what  can  be  done.  Go  West  with  me.  I  will  keep 
your  secret  till  you  are  ready  to  speak.  I  will  sound  your 
brother,  and  find  what  he  will  do.  I  will  explain  every  thing 
to  your  lover :  he  is  a  man,  and  will  do  right.' 

" '  Perhaps,'  she  said,  '  there  is  hope.  I  found  myself  here 
only  yesterday.  I  am  pure  of  any  voluntary  stain.  I  will 
let  you  try ;  yes,  you  may  try.' 

"  And  so  Mr.  Forrest  ordered  a  carriage,  took  her  to  a 
hotel,  paid  her  bills,  and  has  brought  her  West  to  my  house, 
where  she  is  now  concealed,  as  the  second  specification 
charges. 

"  As  to  the  third,  he  has  been  to  Maple  City  to  see  her. 
He  was  in  her  company  last  Sunday.  He  tried  to  get  her 
consent  to  speak  with  her  friends ;  but,  timid  and  frightened, 
she  would  not  yet  give  it.  His  promise,  that,  unlike  some, 
he  chooses  to  honor,  has  kept  him  silent,  and  made  it  pos 
sible  for  his  enemies  to  abuse  a  man  whose  shoes  they  are 
not  fit  to  carry.  Though,  did  she  know  now  much  depended 
on  the  words  I  have  spoken,  she  would  have  been  here  her 
self  for  the  deliverance  of  her  savior." 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  toward  Mr.  Forrest,  who  still 
did  not  look  up  ;  but,  as  Mr.  Winthrop  proceeded,  they  fas 
tened  on  him  again. 

"  Only  a  word  more  is  to  be  said.  That  word,  I  am  gen 
uinely  sorry  and  pained  to  say,  must  be  one  of  disgrace. 
But,  mind  you,  the  disgrace  does  not  attach  to  my  friend 
Mr.  Forrest.  It  does,  however,  attach  to  him  who  is  the 
underhand  leader  and  instigator  of  this  whole  —  not  prose 
cution,  but  —  persecution.  It  only  remains  for  me  to  add, 


194  BLUFFTON. 

that  this  young  lady,  the  victim  of  her  brother's  avarice  and 
lack  of  heart,  —  a  brother  who  covers  his  selfish  plans  deep 
down  under  a  sniffling  piety,  —  this  mysterious  Maple  City 
lady,  now  at  my  house  and  under  my  care,  is  the  sister  of 
your  noble  prosecutor,  Mr.  Richard  Smiley." 

A  silence  struck  dumb  with  astonishment  followed ;  and 
then  it  burst  into  uproarious  applause.  Uncle  Zeke  flung 
his  hat  up  to  the  ceiling,  and  shouted,  — 

"  Hooray  !  I  knowed  he  was  all  right !  I  knowed  it !  In 
course  I  did  ! " 

Deacon  Putney  rushed  forward,  and  grasped  Mr.  Forrest's 
hand ;  and  he  now  was  thronged  by  congratulations  on  every 
side. 

And  even  old  Mrs.  Buck  and  aunt  Sally  looked  wise, 
and  mutually  remarked  in  a  breath,  — 

"Of  course  !  anybody  might  'a'  knowed  such  a  nice  man 
as  Mr.  Forrest  was  all  right ;  "  and  they  actually  made  them 
selves  think  they  had  always  been  of  the  same  opinion. 

But  where  was  Mr.  Smiley  ?  He  had  followed  Mr.  Win- 
throp's  narrative  with  breathless  and  passionate  attention. 
He  had  seen  the  possibility  of  its  conclusion,  and  shrunk 
from  it  while  his  heart  stood  still,  as  if  terror-struck  in  a  tem 
pest.  And  yet  he  had  hoped  it  was  about  some  one  else ; 
and  he  did  not  dare  to  speak,  or  show  his  conflicting  emo 
tions,  for  that  would  be  confession  at  least  of  a  parallel 
story  on  his  own  part.  So  he  sat  in  speechless  horror  as  the 
tale  proceeded ;  and  when  the  climax  came,  he  saw,  in  one 
vivid  flash  of  thought,  as  though  his  brain  had  been  lighted 
by  an  electric  blaze,  his  power  and  prestige  gone.  He  was 


TOM   SPEAKS.  195 

unmasked.  No  more  in  city  or  church  could  he  be  the 
leader  again ;  and  to  live,  and  not  lead,  was  to  him  worse 
than  death.  So,  while  the  confusion  raged  about  him,  a 
worse  chaos  and  struggle  went  on  within.  He  was  flushed 
and  livid  by  turns ;  and,  as  at  last  he  clutched  his  nails  into 
his  palms  in  the  effort  at  self-control,  he  suddenly  fainted 
and  fell. 

A  physician  who  was  present  was  hurriedly  called ;  and 
he  had  him  taken  up,  and  carried  to  the  door.  But  when 
he  got  there,  and  felt  for  his  pulse,  it  was  only  a  flicker ; 
and  even  that  soon  ceased.  The  doctor  said  a  blood-vessel 
had  burst  in  his  excitement.  And  Richard  Smiley  was  no 
more. 


196  BLUFFTON. 


XX. 

THE   BROKEN  RING. 

MR.  FORREST  cared  little  for  his  triumph,  —  little  for 
the  excited  change  in  the  feelings  of  the  fickle  pub 
lic,  that,  by  as  much  as  it  had  degraded  him,  now  exalted 
him  in  its  enthusiastic  reverence  as  a  hero.  It  was  little 
to  him  that  the  church,  almost  in  a  body,  now  came  and 
begged  him  to  stay  with  them.  For,  even  had  he  not  been 
condemned  as  heretic  by  a  formal  council,  still  he  felt 
that  in  an  orthodox  church  was  not  his  proper  field  of 
work.  He  could  not  remain  without  contracting  his  range 
of  study,  and  clipping  the  wings  of  his  thought ;  and  these 
things  he  could  not  do,  and  maintain  his  self-respect.  For 
to  call  it  freedom  of  thought,  where  you  were  bound  under 
penalty  to  come  to  certain  foregone  conclusions,  now  seemed 
to  him  a  sad  intellectual  confusion  in  the  use  of  words, 
even  if  you  overlooked  its  reprehensible  moral  quality. 

He  cared,  I  say,  for  none  of  these  things ;  for  the  reason 
that  he  saw  inevitably  before  him  the  darkest  sorrow  of  his 
life.  It  seemed  to  him  worse  than  death  :  for  death  leaves 
tender  regret  and  inspiring  memories ;  and  also  it  leaves 
one  the  hope,  at  least,  of  meeting  again  those  so  rudely  torn 


THE    BROKEN    RING.  1 97 

from  us  here.  But  a  separation  like  that  which  he  foresaw 
was  coming  was  bereft  of  all  these  consolations.  It  could 
leave  behind  it  only  useless,  gnawing  regrets ;  and,  should 
they  meet  in  any  future,  still  he  would  have  no  claim  based 
on  any  past  possession. 

So  keenly  did  he  feel  this,  that  he  could  not  nerve  him 
self  up  to  face  the  meeting  and  the  parting.  He  must  post 
pone  it,  and  collect  himself  after  his  excitement.  So,  send 
ing  Madge  a  note  appointing  a  meeting  for  the  following 
Sunday  evening,  and  excusing  himself  till  then,  he  deter 
mined  to  return  with  Tom  to  Maple  City. 

"  I  can't  bear  even  to  see  my  friends  now,"  said  he. 
"  They  will  talk  to  me  kindly,  but  about  things  of  no  con 
cern  to-day.  A  husband  waiting  for  the  funeral  of  his  wife 
doesn't  care  to  discuss  the  market  rates." 

And  so  he  took  himself  away.  The  two  days  passed 
quickly,  as  do  the  last  hours  to  the  criminal  awaiting  the 
clock-stroke  that  knells  his  execution.  Here  at  Maple  City, 
he  walked  up  and  down  the  levee  as  the  steamer  came  and 
went,  and  thought  over  the  crowded  events  of  this  one  year. 
His  life  seemed  short,  compared  with  its  hurried  events. 

"How  many  tragedies,"  thought  he,  "are  beginning,  pro 
gressing,  or  ending,  in  the  midst  of  these  apparently  thought 
less  passengers,  as  they  come  and  go  ! " 

He  went  over  the  past,  step  by  step,  and  lived  it  all 
again.  He  and  Tom,  two  happy,  careless  young  men,  stood 
on  the  levee  once  more.  They  jested  together  about  the 
little  lady  that  tripped  so  heart-free  up  the  plank ;  and  now 
he  and  that  lady  dared  not  look  each  other  in  the  face,  for 


IQ8  BLUFFTON. 

the  great  agony  that  was  tugging  at  both  their  hearts.  A 
little  year  ago,  and  he  stood  on  the  forward  deck,  and 
sailed  out  into  the  fairy  world  of  enchantment,  and  in  that 
world  he  had  found  the  princess  of  his  soul ;  but  the  dragon 
of  old  theologic  superstition  held  her  in  the  midst  of  a  magic 
circle  from  which  she  could  escape  only  over  her  father's 
heart ;  and  this  her  very  goodness  forbade.  His  new-found 
friend,  Mrs.  Grey,  was  gone.  He  must  clasp  the  honest  old 
hand  of  uncle  Zeke,  and  try  to  say  good-by.  His  life-work 
was  blasted.  The  past  had  turned  to  ashes ;  and  the  future 
as  yet  was  a  desolate  wilderness,  through  which  he  could 
not  even  catch  the  glimpse  of  a  path. 

And  now,  as  he  turned  away,  his  soul  was  wrung  with 
questionings. 

In  such  a  mood  as  this,  —  for  the  past  year  haunted  him, 
—  he  started  out  in  the  evening  for  a  lonely  walk.  He  had 
talked  himself  tired  with  Tom ;  and  for  a  little,  before  he 
went  to  bed,  he  must  be  alone.  He  strolled  beyond  the 
edge  of  the  town,  and  on  the  bank  of  the  river.  The  sky 
was  full  of  stars,  and  their  far-off  silence  was  as  near  to  sym 
pathy  as  any  thing  he  could  bear.  And  now  the  flood  swept 
over  him.  Moods  changed  so  rapidly  that  he  seemed  to 
possess  several  selves ;  and  now  and  then  he  would  lose 
himself  in  the  fancy  that  he  was  listening  to  a  raging  contest 
in  which  he  had  no  concern  except  to  hear ;  and  then  he 
would  wake,  and  come  to  himself  with  a  new  and  added  pang 
of  sorrow. 

"  Oh,  I've  been  a  fool ! "  he  cried.  "Why  need  I  seek  to 
be  wiser  than  my  fathers?  I've  tasted  the  spring  of  knowl- 


THE    BROKEN    RING.  1 99 

edge,  and  its  waters  have  madness  in  them.  Thousands 
have  lived  and  died  happy  in  the  old  faith.  Why  need  I 
undermine  the  house  in  which  I  might  have  sheltered  and 
delighted  in  my  love  ?  " 

And  then  he  would  think  again,  — 

"  The  first  intellectual  and  religious  houses  of  the  race  were 
caves  and  huts.  And,  as  the  first  steps  of  upward  progress 
were  made,  doubtless  the  same  questions  came  then  from 
hearts  with  the  same  world-old  agony.  It  is  always  a  crime 
to  tear  down  the  old,  even  for  the  sake  of  a  better.  Our 
present  houses,  perchance,  are  but  primeval  huts  to  those 
which  shall  give  palatial  religious  shelter  to  the  men  who 
shall  look  upon  us  as,  in  comparison,  superstitious  and  bar 
barous.  The  destructive  builders  of  the  past  are  the  ones 
we  worship,  though  their  ages  cast  them  out.  And  some 
one  must  do  the  work  of  to-day  for  the  future.  But  need 
/  do  it?  Oh  that  I  might  escape  !  But  I  have  heard  the 
voice  of  God ;  and  now  woe  is  me  if  I  preach  not  his  better 
gospel.  And,  O  Madge  !  woe  is  me  if  I  do  !  " 

On  Saturday  the  two  friends  again  walked  together  down 
to  the  boat. 

"Mark,"  said  Tom,  as  arm  in  arm  they  strolled  slowly 
down  the  street,  "  I  haven't  felt  like  speaking  to  Miss  Smiley 
after  all  that  has  occurred  :  how  do  you  find  her?  " 

"  As  badly  as  her  brother  treated  her,  still,  you  know,  the 
ties  of  blood  are  strong,  and  he  was  the  last  of  her  family. 
The  manner,  also,  of  his  taking-off,  was  a  great  shock  to  her. 
Still  I  can't  but  think  she  feels  a  sense  of  relief.  He  wasn't 
one  that  anybody  could  love  overmuch." 


2OO  BLUFFTON. 

"  And  since  he  has  never  married,  and  left  no  will,  she, 
as  next  heir,  comes  now  into  his  property  as  well  as  her 
own." 

"Yes;  and,  best  of  all,  the  odious  dependence  on  him, 
created  by  her  father's  will,  is  of  course  broken  now,  and 
she  is  free." 

"But  what  does  she  say,  Mark,  about  my  breaking  the 
silence  of  her  secret  ?  " 

"Of  course  her  delicacy  would  have  had  it  kept;  but, 
under  the  circumstances,  she  blesses  you  for  it.  She  up 
braided  me  most  severely  for  not  letting  her  know  how  my 
relations  to  her  were  complicating  my  own  affairs.  I  think 
she'd  have  appeared  at  the  council,  and  told  her  own  story, 
rather  than  have  had  me  suffer  by  her  silence." 

"  But  now,  Mark,  it's  almost  boat-time,  and  I  must  ask 
you  a  word  or  two  about  Miss  Hartley." 

"O  Tom  !  I  can  hardly  speak  on  that  subject  now.  She's 
lost  to  me  forever,  I  fear.  Fear  ?  I  know  it,  Tom.  I  wish  I, 
too,  had  fallen  beside  Smiley.  '  Wherefore  is  light  given  to 
him  that  is  in  misery,  and  life  unto  the  bitter  in  soul? '  I've 
nothing  left  to  live  for." 

"  Why  don't  she  leave  the  old  curmudgeon  of  a  judge, 
Mark?  What's  the  use  of  spoiling  a  living  happiness  for  a 
iying  superstition?" 

"  Don't  speak  that  way,  Tom,  if  you  love  me.  You  don't 
know  the  judge,  or  Madge  either.  We  three  are  simply  the 
fated  personages  in  an  inevitable  tragedy.  In  his  circum 
stances,  the  judge  could  be  no  other  than  he  is.  And  of  his 
kind  he's  a  noble  specimen,  a  true  man.  And,  beside,  he's 


THE    BROKEN    RING.  2OI 

too  old  to  change.  The  brain  gets  stiff,  as  the  joints  do, 
with  age.  And,  in  my  circumstances,  I  can  be  no  other 
without  deliberate  surrender  of  my  manhood ;  and  I  won't 
offer  Madge  a  shell  with  only  a  lie  wrapped  up  in  it.  And 
as  for  Madge  herself,  dear,  sweet  girl,  I  couldn't  change  her 
without  spoiling  her  high  womanhood.  If  she  could  trample 
on  her  father's  heart,  then  by  and  by  she  might  on  mine. 
No,  Tom,  it's  tragedy.  Just  as  in  the  old  Greek  plays  the 
characters  are  inmeshed  by  the  fates  in  circumstances  where 
death  is  the  only  way  out,  so  it  is  now.  What  the  gods 
mean  by  it  all,  perhaps  we'll  know  some  day ;  but  I  can't 
make  it  out  now." 

"  Well,  Mark,  old  fellow,  I  wish  I  could  help  you ;  but  it's 
one  of  those  battles  where  only  one  can  fight." 

Meantime  Madge  also  was  struggling  alone  with  her  des 
tiny.  Mark  had  been  condemned  by  the  council ;  but  she 
did  not  know  enough  of  the  technical  points  in  dispute  fully 
to  appreciate  what  his  awful  heresy  was.  But  her  heart  rose 
up  in  admiration  of  his  manliness  and  sincerity.  And  par 
ticularly  did  her  heart  throb  with  a  new  and  deeper  love  at 
the  revelation  of  his  tenderness  toward  the  fallen,  and  his 
faithfulness  to  his  delicate  sense  of  honor  at  whatever  cost. 
In  her  soul  she  bowed  down  before  the  image  of  his 
nobility,  and  worshipped,  as  one  does  homage  to  the  figure 
of  some  grand  heroism  in  history  or  romance. 

But  then,  she  was  one  of  those  whose  roots  strike  deeply 
into  the  reverence  and  sentiment  of  the  past.  All  she  had 
ever  known  or  thought  of  God,  of  duty,  of  sanctities,  of 
religion  in  the  present,  or  hope  for  the  future,  were  linked 


2O2  BLUFFTON. 

indissolubly  with  her  father's  thought  and  the  training  of  her 
home.  As  she  had  conceived  no  other  thought,  to  give  up 
that  seemed  bald,  blank  atheism,  the  blotting  all  high,  sweet 
spiritualities  out  of  the  universe.  She  knew  Mark  must 
see  something;  but  to  her  it  was  all  chaos  and  darkness. 
When  she  thought  of  these  things  as  gone,  her  soul  seemed 
to  wander  up  and  down  a  desert  world,  like  the  Wandering 
Jew,  driven  on  and  on ;  or  like  the  dove  from  the  ark,  seeing 
no  place  of  rest,  but  only  a  dreary  waste  of  waters  that  had 
buried  every  sweet  and  beautiful  and  green  thing.  All  her 
childhood  memories  plead  with  her.  The  past  rebuked  her 
as  an  impious  traitor.  The  future  threatened;  for,  having 
vividly  in  her  mind  the  whole  evangelical  scheme  of  things, 
her  guardian  angel  seemed  to  weep  for  her  possible  defec 
tion.  And  in  her  dreams  she  found  herself  standing  outside 
the  fast-shut  gate  of  the  celestial  city  into  which  she  had 
just  seen  father  and  mother  and  sisters  enter ;  and,  as  weep 
ing  she  turned  hopelessly  away,  she  saw  Mark,  with  haggard 
look  and  downcast  eyes,  ready  to  plead  with  her  for  an 
impossible  forgiveness  for  having  led  her  astray.  And,  as 
she  waked,  she  would  think  that  even  outside  with  him  was 
better  than  any  heaven  from  which  his  honesty  could  cast 
him  out.  But  then  her  conscience  stood  up  stoutly  in  her 
soul ;  and  all  her  moral,  tender,  loving  nature  revolted  at  the 
thought  of  trampling  on  her  father's  heart  for  the  sake  of 
gratifying  a  selfish  love. 

"  No,"  she  cried,  "  I  can  not,  will  not.  It  may  kill  me,  it 
will  kill  me ;  but  I  will  not  be  ignoble  !  If  I  cannot  be  a 
true  daughter,  I  cannot  be  a  true  wife.  If  I  am  untrue  here,. 


THE    BROKEN    RING.  20$ 

I  shall  only  be  giving  Mark,  not  what  he  seeks,  a  whole, 
true  woman,  but  one  whose  conscience  has  been  violated, 
the  tone  of  whose  life  has  been  lowered." 

Such,  then,  were  the  two  hearts  that  fate  had  driven 
together  in  the  passionate  collision  of  a  hopeless  love. 
They  could  only  touch  hands,  and  learn  how  sweet  it  was  to 
look  in  each  other's  eyes,  and  then  find  growing  up  between 
them  the  stern,  hard,  cold  face  of  Duty,  and  see  her  fixed 
finger  pointing  them  each  a  separate  way. 

Their  meeting  on  Sunday  evening  was  a  passionate  one ; 
for,  while  Mark  held  her  convulsively  to  his  heart,  their 
tears  did  eloquent  duty  for  words.  They  needed  only  brief 
speech  for  mutual  understanding.  The  electric  wires  of 
love  and  grief  carry  subtle  messages,  and  need  not  the 
clumsy  medium  of  language. 

"  Madge,"  at  last  he  said,  "  I  must  leave  Bluffton  to 
morrow.  I  cannot  endure  it  here.  Let  us  take  one  more 
walk  before  I  go." 

And,  as  they  stepped  out  into  the  night,  they  seemed 
instinctively  to  feel  that  there  was  only  one  place  to  which 
they  could  go,  and  that,  the  now  sacred  spot  that  had  such 
sweet,  and  was  to  have  such  bitter,  memories.  They  sat 
down  again  beneath  the  old  chestnut-tree ;  while  the  moon 
once  more  came  up  large  and  round  and  yellow  in  the 
dense  atmosphere  that  belted  the  horizon,  and  looked  across 
the  shimmering  river  full  into  their  saddened  faces. 

"  Madge,"  said  he,  as  he  caressed  a  loosened  lock  of 
hair  upon  her  forehead,  "  do  you  love  me  still,  as  you  did 
when  we  sat  here  before  ?  " 


2O4  BLUFFTON. 

"  Don't  break  my  heart  with  a  question  like  that.  I've 
only  learned  to  love  you  more  and  more." 

"  And  yet  you  cannot  follow  me,"  said  he  with  a  slight 
tinge  of  reproach  in  his  tone. 

"  Mark,  if  you  loved  me,"  she  cried  almost  fiercely,  "  you 
would  not  make  it  harder  for  me  than  it  is.  It  is  already 
more  than  I  can  bear." 

"  But,  Madge,  I've  only  done  my  duty." 

"  Oh,  if  you  could  only  have  let  these  awful  things  alone  ! 
It  cannot  be  God  that  has  led  you  to  what  is  killing  me." 

"Can  you  not  follow  me  even  yet,  since  you  do  love 
me?" 

"  Oh,  I  can't,  I  can't !  I  dare  not !  Father  has  not 
spoken  much  of  late ;  but  oh,  he  looks  at  me  so  !  His 
white  face  would  haunt  me  forever,  could  I  desert  him 
now." 

"But,  Madge"  — 

"  Mark  !  "  she  broke  in  hurriedly  and  abruptly,  "  do  you 
know  what  you  ask  of  me?  Would  you  have  me  at  the 
price  of  making  me  unworthy  of  you?  One  falsity  in  life 
would  taint  me  all  through.  I  can't,  I  can't !  "  she  sobbed  : 
"  do  not  tempt  me,  or  I  shall  fall." 

"  But  at  the  worst,  Madge,  may  I  not  think  of  it  as  a  tem 
porary  separation?  Years  of  waiting  will  be  nothing,  if  I 
may  hope." 

The  struggle  now  in  Madge's  soul  was  fearful.  This  to 
her  was  not  a  new  suggestion.  She  had  battled  with  it  in 
the  long  days,  and  it  had  haunted  her  in  her  dreams.  Long 
before  this  she  thought  she  had  settler1  it,  that  she  must  not 


THE    BROKEN    RING.  2O$ 

consent  even  to  this.  Her  father  was  hale  and  strong,  and 
would  live  for  years.  Meantime  she  should  change,  and 
Mark  would  change.  Men  loved,  she  said  to  herself,  then 
went  away,  and  learned  to  love  again.  So  it  might  be  with 
him.  He  would  go  away,  and  find  another  field  of  activity. 
Others  would  smile  upon  and  flatter  him.  Meanwhile  she 
would  be  losing  her  freshness  as  she  lived  on  at  home,  and 
waited  on  her  father's  declining  years.  Her  delicate  sensi 
tiveness  made  her  feel  she  would  be  doing  him  a  wrong  to 
keep  him  tied  to  a  promise  that  anyway  must  wait  for  years, 
and  that  he  might  come  to  wish  himself  freed  from.  She 
had  said  to  herself,  — 

"True  love  will  live  without  promises;  and,  though  it 
break  my  heart,  I  must  be  true  to  his  real  interests,  even  if  I 
appear  cruel.  I  do  not  love  him  as  I  ought,  if  I  cannot 
take  up  this  cross." 

So  as  he  repeated  his  question,  — 

"May  I  hope,  Madge?"  she  said  slowly,  and  with  a  sort 
of  desperate  firmness,  — 

"  Yes,  Mark,  we  will  both  hope  —  for  the  best ;  for  heaven 
if  not  for  earth.  But  here  and  now  we  must  separate  and  be 
free.  It  is  better  so ;  "  and  she  bit  her  lips,  and  crowded 
back  the  tears. 

"Madge,"  he  said,  rising  to  his  feet,  "I  had  hoped  for 
more  than  this." 

"  Mark,"  said  she,  "  the  years  will  be  many  before  I  am 
free.  I  shall  change.  You  will  change.  I  cannot  wrong 
you  by  holding  to  you  a  pledge  you  may  wish  to  break." 

"  But  I  can  never  love  any  one  else,"  pleaded  he. 


2O6  BLUFFTON. 

"  The  years  will  tell." 

"You  will  not,  then?" 

"  Mark,  not  will  not :  I  can  not ;  I  ought  not." 

"  Madge,  I  cannot  think  this  kind ;  and  it  will  leave  a 
bitter  memory  in  my  heart.  I  must  think  you  have  some 
motive  I  do  not  know."  And  out  of  the  strong  passion  of 
his  love,  and  his  bitter  hopelessness,  he  uttered  cruel  words, 
that  gave  him  many  an  after-pang  :  "  I  have  been  told  that 
women  were  fickle,  but  I  thought  it  not  of  you." 

She  did  not  reply;  for  she  could  not.  She  dared  not 
trust  herself.  She  would  have  broken  down  weeping  like  a 
child  in  his  arms.  "  I  have  done  right,"  she  thought. 
"  The  bond  must  be  snapped  at  any  cost." 

She  now  rose,  and  the  two  stood  a  silent  moment  in  the 
moonlight.  At  last  she  held  out  her  hand,  —  that  hand  that 
had  brought  him  to  her  feet,  and  was  now  pushing  him  away. 
He  caught  it,  kissed  it,  and  wet  it  with  his  tears. 

Then  she  slowly,  without  trusting  herself  to  look  toward 
him  again,  began  to  move  away. 

"But  Miss  Hartley,"  —  the  distant  address  stung  her, — 
"  I  must  at  least  see  you  to  your  gate." 

"  No,  please,"  she  faltered.  "It  is  only  a  little  way;  and 
the  evening  is  light.  I  cannot  part  with  you  there." 

He  flung  himself  upon  the  ground,  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands.  When  he  again  looked  up,  he  was  alone  with  the 
pitiless  stars. 

As  that  night,  after  long  tossing,  at  last  he  lay  in  a  troubled 
sleep,  he  dreamed  all  over  the  sad  tragedy  of  Jean  Ingelow's 
"  Divided,"  —  a  poem  he  had  long  ago  committed  to  mem- 


THE   BROKEN   RING.  2O/ 

ory;  and  ever  and  ever  through  his  brain  there  sounded 
the  sad  refrain,  — 

"  No  backward  path ;  ah !  no  returning : 

No  second  crossing  that  ripple's  flow : 
' Come  to  me  now,  for  the  west  is  burning; 
.    Come  ere  it  darkens  ! '    Ah,  no !  ah,  no ! 

"  Then  cries  of  pain,  and  arms  outreaching  — 

The  beck  grows  wider  and  swift  and  deep : 
Passionate  words  as  of  one  beseeching — 
The  loud  beck  drowns  them :  we  walk,  and  weep." 


2O8  BLUFFTON. 


XXI. 

RECONSIDERATION. 

THE  very  next  day  saw  Mr.  Forrest's  hurried  good-by 
to  Bluffton.  He  could  not  bear  even  to  see  his 
friends.  He  could  not  leave,  however,  without  one  last 
word  with  uncle  Zeke,  and  one  more  grip  of  his  honest 
hand. 

"  It's  mighty  rough  on  me,  Mr.  Forrest ;  but  it's  jest  what 
I  expected,"  said  he.  "  That  ar'  Sunday  mornin'  here  on 
the  hill,  I  told  ye  you's  too  likely  a  feller  to  be  a  minister ; 
and  ye  be,  fur  sich  ornery  critters." 

"  Well,  uncle,  I've  done  my  duty,  and  paid  the  price  for 
it.  At  least  I'll  take  away  with  me  my  self-respect." 

"  'Deed  ye  will,  Mr.  Forrest.  An'  ye'll  take  away,  beside,, 
the  lovin'  gratitude  o'  many  £  poor  man  an'  woman  you've 
helped.  An'  ye'll  take  along  the  daylight  o'  lots  on  us  that's 
long  sot  in  darkness  for  the  want  o'  a  little  sense  in  reli 
gion." 

And,  as  they  parted,  uncle  Zeke  grasped  his  hand,  and 
almost  crushed  it  in  the  warmth  of  his  emotion,  while  he 
turned  his  head  away,  and  pretended  to  be  blowing  his 
nose ;  though,  in  reality,  he  was  dashing  away  the  moisture 
from  his  eyes,  that  he  was  ashamed  to  have  his  friend  see. 


RECONSIDERATION.  2CX) 

He  spent  one  hurried  day  with  Tom ;  for  in  his  present 
mood  of  mind  he  did  not  wish  to  stay  long,  even  in  the 
region  of  Bluffton,  —  a  region  now  so  thronged  with  unpleas 
ant  memories.  There  being  no  longer  any  reason  for  Miss 
Smiley's  remaining  at  Maple  City,  she  was  preparing  to  put 
her  brother's  affairs  into  the  hands  of  an  attorney  for  settle 
ment,  intending  herself  to  return  to  her  friends  at  the  East. 
Her  parting  with  Mr.  Forrest  was  such  an  one  as  only  their 
strange  relations  could  have  made  possible. 

"I  shall  always  think  of  you  as  my  savior,"  said  she. 
"  It  makes  me  shudder  with  horror,"  —  and  she  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands,  as  though  shutting  out  some  fearful 
picture,  —  "  to  think  of  what  the  future  would  have  been  to 
me,  but  for  you." 

"  But  I  was  only  human,"  he  replied.  "  Any  one,  not  a 
brute,  would  save  a  sparrow  from  the  hawk." 

"  Nevertheless,"  she  replied,  "  it  was  you  who  saved  me. 
I  can  never  forget  that.  I  shall  worship  you  always  as  my 
saint." 

Mr.  Forrest  had  some  friends  in  a  northern  city  on  the 
lake ;  and  he  determined  to  spend  a  few  days  there,  while 
making  up  his  mind  what  future  course  to  pursue.  Drop 
ping  into  one  of  the  public  reading-rooms  one  morning,  he 
met  two  prominent  doctors  of  divinity,  belonging  to  two  dif 
ferent  but  representative  branches  of  the  great  orthodox 
body.  He  had  met  them  before,  on  some  public  occasion, 
and  so  had  sufficient  acquaintance  to  form  the  basis  of  a 
conversation.  The  daily  papers  —  those  innumerable  inky 
tongues  of  the  goddess  Rumor  —  had  caught  the  echoes  of 


2IO  BLUFFTON. 

Bluffton  affairs,  so  that  they  knew  something  of  what  Mr. 
Forrest  had  gone  through.  They  were  chatting  together  in 
one  corner  of  the  room  as  he  entered.  Rising,  and  shaking 
him  cordially  by  the  hand,  and  one  of  them  drawing  a  third 
chair  into  the  corner,  they  all  three  sat  down  together. 

"  So  they've  been  having  you  on  the  theological  gridiron, 
have  they?"  remarked,  rather  than  inquired,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Thomes. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Forrest;  "and  they've  fried  me  so 
well,  that  I'm  completely  done  —  with  orthodoxy." 

"  And  I  think  it's  a  perfect  outrage,"  continued  Dr. 
Thomes,  "that  there  should  always  be  just  enough  old 
fogies  from  the  middle  ages,  in  every  conference,  to  kill  off 
-any  young  man  that's  bright  enough  to  have  a  new  idea. 
If  they  can  have  their  own  way,  they'll  condemn  the  Church 
to  perpetual  mediocrity.  They  seem  to  think  stupidity  and 
piety  are  synonymous." 

"You  never  said  a  truer  word,  Dr.  Thomes,  in  your  life," 
said  Dr.  Hay.  "  I  don't  know  of  an  exceptionally  bright 
man  anywhere,  who  isn't  spotted  by  somebody  as  a  heretic. 
Nowadays,  that  only  means  that  he's  got,  and  dares  to  utter, 
a  new  idea." 

"And,"  said  Dr.  Thomes,  "if  no  new  ideas  are  to  be 
allowed,  I'd  like  to  have  somebody  explain  to  me  how  the 
world  is  ever  to  grow  any.  These  theological  purists,  if  they 
were  gardeners,  would  be  cutting  off,  in  the  spring,  every 
new  leaf  and  twig,  as  innovations  ;  and  seeing  to  it  that  the 
tree  staid  where  it  was  last  year." 

"  Yes ;  but,"  said  Mr.  Forrest,  "  after  all  my  painful  and 


RECONSIDERATION.  211 

forced  attention  to  the  matter,  I  am  inclined  to  think  they 
are  right.  Being  acquainted  with  your  reputation  as  what 
has  come,  curiously  enough,  to  be  called  Liberal  Orthodox, 
I  am  not  at  all  surprised  at  your  opinions.  But  I  must  differ 
from  you." 

"  And  I  must  differ  with  you"  said  Dr.  Hay.  "  Now,  in 
your  own  case,  I  think  you  have  made  a  decided  mistake. 
When,  as  I  see  by  the  morning  paper,  your  people  gathered 
about  you,  and  urged  you  to  remain,  I  think  you  ought  to 
have  done  it.  You  had  a  good  opportunity  to  help  us  fight 
out  this  battle." 

"But,"  replied  Mr.  Forrest,  "I  have  come  to  feel  that  I 
have  no  right  to  fight  the  battle  in  any  such  Trojan-horse 
style.  Strategy  and  deception  are  counted  fair  in  war ;  but 
it  seems  questionable  to  me,  to  fight  the  battles  of  truth  and 
God  in  underhand  and  deceptive  ways." 

"I  do  not  quite  admit  your  point,"  said  Dr.  Thomes. 
"  Has  a  man  no  rights  in  the  church  in  which  he  was 
born?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Forrest,  —  "  the  right  either  to  re 
main  loyal  to  it,  or  to  leave  it." 

"  But  may  he  not  remain  in  it  and  reform  it?  " 

"  I  think  not,"  said  he,  "  if  I  understand  what  you  mean 
by  reform,  —  that  is,  change  it  to  something  else.  If  a  man 
is  in  a  Shakspeare  Club,  and  concludes  that  he  would  pre 
fer  a  Philosophical  Society,  the  simple  and  honest  way  would 
be  to  leave  the  first,  and  organize  the  second,  not  undertake 
to  break  up  the  club  while  still  claiming  to  be  loyal  to  it." 

"  But  doctrines  change,"  said  Dr.  Hay,  "  just  as  modern 


212  BLUFFTON. 

Italian  has  grown  out  of  the  Latin.  Must  one  leave  his 
country  on  that  account?  " 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Forrest;  "but  I  wouldn't  confuse  things 
that  differ.  You  don't  go  on  claiming  that  modern  Italian  is 
just  the  genuine  old  Latin.  You  call  it  what  it  is,  and  let 
people  take  their  choice." 

"  But  there  are  such  stupid  prejudices  on  the  part  of  the 
common  people,  that  they  will  not  hear  the  whole  truth. 
They  have  to  be  led  along  like  children,  as  they  are  able." 

"But,"  returned  Mr.  Forrest,  "I  think  that  —  if  you  will 
pardon  me  for  saying  it  —  the  cowardice  of  the  pulpit  is 
responsible  for  much  of  the  prejudice ;  at  least,  for  its  con 
tinuance." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Dr.  Thomes,  "  the  minister  must  preach 
what  people  will  hear,  if  he  is  going  to  preach  at  all.  If  he 
gets  branded  as  heretical,  then  he  loses  all  his  influence,  and 
his  power  is  gone.  If  he  is  prudent,  and  gives  out  his  new 
views  as  they  will  bear  it,  then  he  can  gradually  lead  them 
into  broader  ways." 

"  I  have  looked  all  these  arguments  over ;  and  you  are 
not  the  first  ones  that  have  urged  me  to  act  in  accordance 
with  them.  But  I  cannot  see  my  way." 

"But  consider  the  case  of  Mr.  Blank,  now  holding  his 
services  in  our  great  hall.  He's  doing  an  immense  good. 
Occupying  as  he  does  a  middle  position,  he  draws  about 
him  the  conservative  liberals  and  the  liberal  orthodox,  and 
holds  the  throngs  of  both  in  his  hands." 

"  I  know  it  all,  and  have  thought  of  it  all,"  Mr.  Forrest 
replied.  "  And  if  one,  in  all  honesty  and  sincerity,  can  hold 


RECONSIDERATION.  213 

such  a  position,  he  will  appeal  to  the  largest  numbers  in 
these  transition  times.  For,  let  a  man  be  pronounced  and 
clear  on  either  side,  and  of  course  he  loses  those  on  the 
other.  The  times  are  hazy ;  and  the  hazy  man,  Mr.  Facing- 
both-ways,  will  see  the  biggest  houses,  for  he  has  the  largest 
constituency.  An  honest  Facing-both-ways  may  do  much 
temporary  good.  But  they  are  not  the  builders  :  they  raise 
only  temporary  huts  till  the  house  gets  framed  and  boarded 
in." 

"  If  they  can  hold  the  position  honestly,  you  said," 
broke  in  Dr.  Hay  :  "  don't  you  think  they  are  honest  ?  " 

"  Some  of  them,  undoubtedly.  But  it's  a  strain  on  any 
man's  conscience.  Now,  this  Mr.  Blank  you  spoke  of  said 
only  the  other  day  to  a  friend  of  mine  who  was  visiting  the 
city,  'Mr.  Winthrop,  what  I  think  and  believe  in  my  study  is 
one  thing ;  and  what  I  think  it  best,  as  I  consider  the  con 
dition  of  my  people,  to  give  them  as  food,  and  to  build  them 
up  in  the  Christian  life,  that  is  another  thing.'  What  do  you 
call  that?" 

"  I'm  too  much  astonished  to  call  it  any  thing,"  said  Dr. 
Hay. 

"  But  I  call  it  the  worst  kind  of  Jesuitry,"  said  Mr.  For 
rest  ;  "  lying  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  to  build  up  his  king 
dom  of  truth.  And  yet  pardon  me  for  saying  that  it  seems 
to  me  only  the  logical  carrying-out  of  your  own  principle. 
Were  you  not  just  urging  me  to  do  the  same  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  looking  at  it  in  that  light,"  said  Dr.  Thomes. 

"  Now,  let  me  give  you  my  opinion  just  a  little  at  length," 
said  Mr.  Forrest.  "  Catholicism,  for  example,  is  a  fixed  and 


214  BLUFFTON. 

definite  system.  To  change  it  is,  of  course,  to  make  some 
thing  else  out  of  it,  to  destroy  it.  The  something  else  may 
be  better ;  but  it  certainly  isn't  the  same.  To  change  it  all 
over,  then,  and  still  call  it  Roman  Catholic,  would  be  an 
absurdity  as  well  as  a  falsehood.  Therefore  it  seems  to  me 
that  Pius  IX.  was  clear-headed  and  logical  when,  in  his  last 
encyclical,  he  anathematized  those  who  said  the  Church 
ought  to  progress,  and  conform  to  modern  civilization. 

"  And  the  same  is  true  of  orthodoxy  in  any  form.  It 
claims  to  be  based  on  a  clear,  explicit,  and  finished  scheme 
of  divine  revelation.  Now,  the  world  may  change  in  its 
relations  toward  an  infallible  revelation ;  but  to  say  that 
it  can  change,  either  to  retrograde  or  advance,  is  simply 
confusion  of  thought,  or  misuse  of  language.  If,  then, 
orthodoxy  ever  was  orthodoxy,  —  the  true  doctrine,  —  then 
it  must  remain  so  forever.  There  can't  be  any  progress  in 
the  facts  of  the  multiplication-table.  But  if  you  admit  that 
orthodoxy  has  changed,  or  can  change  in  any  degree,  then 
it  isn't  orthodoxy  any  longer :  it  admits  no  past  mistake. 
If  there  was  a  past  mistake,  then  there  is  no  certainty  but 
there  may  be  one  now.  You're  all  afloat.  Instead  of 
orthodoxy,  it  is  rationalism,  or  the  application  of  reason  to 
all  the  problems  involved." 

"But  may  not  orthodoxy  grow  like  a  tree?"  asked  Dr. 
Hay. 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  replied  Mr.  Forrest.  "  If  last  year  an 
infallible  revelation  had  fixed  the  number  of  boughs  and 
leaves  for  a  maple,  it  would  have  no  right  to  vary.  And  I 
cannot  help  feeling  that  this  whole  movement  called  Liberal 


RECONSIDERATION.  21$ 

Orthodoxy  is  a  misnomer,  a  mongrel,  that  has  no  right  to 
exist.  If  it  is  liberal,  it  cannot  be  orthodox ;  and,  if  it  is . 
orthodox,  it  has  no  right  to  be  liberal.  It  is  very  like  that 
often-mentioned  but  rather  mythical  creature,  the  white 
blackbird.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  a  logical  vagrant,  without 
the  slightest  'visible  means  of  support.'  If  one  believes 
in  the  Garden  of  Eden  and  the  fall  of  man,  then,  of  course, 
the  incarnation,  the  atonement,  heaven  and  hell,  logically 
follow.  It  is  a  linked  chain ;  it  is  a  complete  logical  arch. 
But  Liberal  Orthodoxy  knocks  the  keystone  out,  and  thinks 
the  rest  will  stand.  It  snaps  out  one  link,  and  thinks  the 
chain  will  still  hold  the  clear-headed  thinkers  of  the  world. 
It  knocks  the  foundations  out  from  under  its  house,  and 
then  proceeds  calmly  up  stairs  and  sits  down  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  Such  feats  are  only  possible  in  castles  in 
the  air.  But  men  will  knock  their  brains  out  against  logical 
impossibilities,  and  still  go  on  unconscious  of  any  accident. 

"  I  know  I  am  preaching  you  a  long  sermon ;  but  just 
think  of  it.  Here  are  men  in  every  direction,  who  think 
they  are  orthodox,  who  do  not  believe  in  any  fall.  They 
know  too  much  of  modern  science  to  still  believe  the  tradi 
tions  about  an  apple's  bringing  death  and  total  depravity  into 
the  world.  And  yet,  if  there  wasn't  any  fall,  there  isn't 
the  slightest  need  of  any  incarnation  or  atonement ;  and  the 
whole  scheme  of  orthodoxy  tumbles  like  a  card  house." 

"  But,"  inquired  Dr.  Hay,  "  must  the  whole  orthodox 
body  be  deprived  of  the  light  of  all  later  knowledge,  just 
because  it  is  orthodox?" 

"  If  it  will  stay  orthodox,  yes ;  but  if  it  chooses  to  accept 


2l6  BLUFFTON. 

modern  knowledge,  and  give  up  this  and  that  doctrine,  then 
let  it  be  honest  enough  to  own  that  it  is  not  orthodox. 
Now,  there's  a  great  excitement  just  now  over  the  question 
of  hell.  The  moral  sense  of  civilization,  having  got  too 
clear-sighted  and  true  to  be  able  any  longer  to  think  God  is 
a  devil,  of  course  has  to  give  up  hell.  But  why  can't  men 
see  that  they  can't  give  up  hell,  and  still  keep  all  the  rest  ? 
If  man  is  under  natural  moral  laws  of  invariable  justice  and 
inevitable  execution  in  this  and  all  worlds,  so  that  he  goes 
up  or  down  as  he  gets  sick  or  well,  according  to  character 
and  conduct,  then,  of  course,  a  sacrificial  atonement  by  a 
dying  God  is  absurd.  Redemption,  atonement,  and  all  such 
ideas,  are  outgrown. 

"  And  of  course  it  also  becomes  absurd  to  hold  to  the 
divine  inspiration  of  a  book  that  plainly  teaches  doctrines 
that  are  given  up.  However  perpetual  some  of  its  moral 
precepts,  it  is  henceforth  only  a  human  book,  a  record  of  a 
past  phase  of  the  world's  religious  life." 

"  But,"  remarked  Dr.  Thomes,  "  I  think  we'd  better  hold 
to  the  Bible  till  the  world  gets  a  better  book." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Forrest,  "by  all  means.  But 
let's  tell  the  truth  about  it  at  the  same  time.  Give  it  to  men 
for  what  it  is,  not  what  it  is  not.  It's  curious  how  men  hold 
the  Bible." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  the  doctor  again. 

"  I  mean  this :  its  infallibility  really  means  to  them  the 
infallibility  of  the  interpretation  put  upon  it  by  their  sect. 
So  you've  really  got  as  many  Bibles  as  you  have  sects.  And 
then  they  hold  tenaciously  to  hosts  of  things  the  Bible  does 


RECONSIDERATION.  2 1/ 

not  enjoin,  or  even  forbids,  as  the  keeping  of  Sunday ;  and 
at  the  same  time  universally  practise  what  it  everywhere  con 
demns,  as  usury  for  example.  Where  would  be  the  support 
of  the  churches  if  the  members  never  took  interest  on  their 
money?" 

"But,"  said  Dr.  Hay,  "not  every  thing  in  the  Bible  is 
intended  to  be  perpetual.  Some  of  it  is  local  and  tem 
porary." 

"There  you  have  it  again,"  said  Mr.  Forrest.  "That's 
rationalism  pure  and  simple.  If  reason  picks  and  chooses, 
then  reason  decides." 

"Well,  we  differ  on  these  points,"  said  Doctor  Hay;  "but 
now  tell  us  where  you  propose  to  go.  If  you  can't  stay  in 
Liberal  Orthodoxy,  will  you  go  to  the  Unitarians  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know  as  yet." 

"  He'd  find  them,  in  many  cases,  more  bigoted  than  we 
are,"  said  Dr.  Thomes.  "  I  know  many  a  Liberal  Orthodox 
who  would  lift  the  hair  of  some  of  the  old-line  Unitarians 
like  'quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine.'  There's  so  much 
bigotry  in  the  world,  that  you  can't  keep  it  all  in  any  one 
denomination." 

"  But  that  isn't  my  chief  objection,"  said  Mr.  Forrest. 

"What,  then?" 

"  Why,  this :  Textual  Unitarianism  or  Universalism,  that 
builds  itself  on  verses  of  Scripture,  and  claims  to  be  a  fixed 
system,  however  broad,  I  can  have  nothing  to  do  with." 

"  How  broad  must  a  church  be,  to  suit  you  ?  "  inquired 
Dr.  Hay. 

"  Just  the  width  of  the  universe  of  God.     I  don't  expect 


2l8  BLUFFTON. 

to  occupy  it  all  at  once.  But,  so  far  as  I  am  able,  I  claim 
the  right  —  for  all  of  any  man  —  to  go  wherever  God  has 
been  before  me." 

"  What's  your  Bible,  then?  " 

"All  ascertained  truth,  however  and  wherever  found." 

"You  say  all  ascertained  truth.  Don't  you  believe  in 
faith?" 

"  Yes,  as  faith ;  but  not  as  knowledge.  I  believe  in  not 
abusing  the  dictionary.  I  believe  a  lot  of  things  I  do  not 
know :  so  I  call  those  things  beliefs.  I  am  not  aware  that 
I  know  any  thing  that  I  don't  know.  I  don't  know  much ; 
but  I  keep  the  word  knowledge  for  that  little." 

"You  have  a  short  creed,  then." 

"  The  universe  is  large.  The  brain  is  small.  I  am  willing 
to  stand  on  what  little  I  know,  and  work  out  from  that.  I 
value  less  than  I  used  to  my  theological  possessions  'in 
Spain.'  Eternity  is  long :  I  can  wait.' 

When  he  had  gone  out,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Thomes  and  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Hay  looked  at  each  other,  and  one  nodded  while 
the  other  said,  — 

"A  clear-headed  fellow.  Yes;  but  he  carries  things  a 
little  too  far.  It  won't  do.  You  can't  get  the  people  up  to 
it.  He  goes  too  far." 


THE    REVENGE    OF    SLIGHTED    LOVE.  2 19 


XXII. 

THE   REVENGE  OF  SLIGHTED  LOVE. 

THREE  years  had  now  passed  away.  Miss  Hartley 
had  devoted  herself  untiringly  to  her  father's  comfort 
and  happiness.  She  had  anticipated  all  his  wants,  and  done 
her  best  to  make  his  home  sunny  and  bright.  He  had  for 
her  a  tender,  almost  a  doting  love.  And  thus,  though  he 
had  rejoiced  at  her  separation  from  Mr.  Forrest,  as  an 
escape  from  a  threatened  peril  to  her  soul,  he  still  could 
not  avoid  a  constantly  questioning  anxiety  as  to  whether  she 
yet  carried  any  lasting  wound.  So,  as  these  three  years 
passed,  he  watched  her.  He  was  too  proud  to  show  curios 
ity,  and  too  respectful  toward  her  right  of  silent  reserve 
to  ask  questions.  But  though  there  never  fell  from  her  lips, 
in  his  hearing,  one  word  of  regret  or  complaint,  he  could 
not  help  noticing  that  the  old  spontaneity  of  her  gladness 
was  gone.  It  was  no  change  of  feature,  but  only  a  paling 
of  the  light  that  shone  behind  the  features.  Her  bird-song 
was  hushed,  or  tuned  to  a  minor  key.  She  did  and  said 
the  same  things  as  ever;  but,  instead  of  bubbling  like  a 
spring,  her  life  seemed  moved  by  the  machine-pressure  of 
duty.  He  noticed  that  in  the  mornings,  as  the  months  went 


22O  BLUFFTON. 

by,  something  of  the  old  freshness  was  out  of  her  face.  A 
dark-colored  line  grew  beneath  her  eyes,  like  a  pen-stroke 
under  a  word,  to  emphasize  her  sadness.  Sometimes,  when 
he  came  upon  her  suddenly,  he  would  find  her  standing 
with  a  far-away,  absent  look  on  her  face ;  or  she  would 
quickly  dash  away  a  tear,  and  start  up  with  a  forced  smile. 
Her  friends  noticed  that  she  cared  less  for  their  society, 
and  was  less  forward  in  the  season's  entertainments.  And 
now  and  then  Jane  Ann  Rawson  would  remark  to  her 
mother,  — 

"  I  think  it's  a  burnin'  shame  !  Madge  Hartley's  jest 
a-dyin'  by  inches  for  Mr.  Forrest.  Anybody  't  's  got  half  an 
eye  can  see  it.  'F  that  old  sour-face  of  a  judge  'd  only 
minded  his  own  business  ! " 

"  Yis,"  said  aunt  Sally,  who,  now  that  he  was  gone,  only 
remembered  Mr.  Forrest's  good  qualities,  while  the  present 
angularities  of  the  judge  were  easily  seen  :  "  sich  a  nice  man 
as  he  was  !  He  was  too  good  for  any  of  the  tribe  o'  sich 
a  sharp-cornered  old  hard-head  as  he  is." 

So  all  the  old  ladies  who  used  to  say  "  Margaret  Hartley 
was  reskin'  her  immortal  soul  for  a  carnal  affection,"  now 
bestowed  all  their  useless  sympathy  on  the  separated  lovers 
when  it  was  too  late.  They  were  good-natured  old  souls, 
only  lacking  any  rational  stability.  They  were  blown  about 
by  the  veering  gusts  of  their  passionate  whims,  as  paper 
kites  are  whiffled  around  by  every  current  of  air. 

Margaret  kept  up  bravely  so  long  as  she  was  with  others, 
or  any  demand  was  made  upon  her.  But  in  the  night  her 
struggles  came,  and  she  fought  with  the  memories  of  the 


THE    REVENGE    OF    SLIGHTED    LOVE.  221 

past.  After  she  had  locked  herself  in  her  chamber,  she 
would  sit  by  the  hour  like  a  statue  at  her  window,  where  she 
could  see  what  was  once  his  window,  from  which  used,  in 
those  glad  young  mornings,  to  come  across  the  way  his 
manly  greeting.  Then,  from  her  side-window,  she  could 
see  in  the  shadow,  the  top  of  the  old  chestnut,  reaching 
above  the  crown  of  the  hill,  where  they  met  and  parted. 
She  would  look,  and  look ;  and  then  clasp  her  hands  over 
her  eyes,  as  if  to  shut  out  what  she  could  bear  no  longer  to 
see.  Sitting  thus,  she  burst  out  at  last,  as  she  had  done 
many  times  before,  — 

"  Oh,  I  was  cruel  that  night !  and  yet  I  couldn't  help  it. 
It  was  not  I.  Fate  spoke  through  my  lips  words  that  I 
hated.  And  he  —  he  must  have  known  it !  He  can't  be  so 
blind  !  He  must  have  known  how  I  loved  him.  I  can't 
endure  the  thought  that  he  went  away  with  the  feeling  that 
/  was  cruel.  And  yet  it  had  to  be  so.  Something  is  cruel, 
to  play  such  games  with  human  hearts  !  " 

Then  she  would  sit,  and  go  over  all  that  long  year.  She 
felt  again  the  sensation  of  guilty,  glad  surprise  at  having 
heard  those  words  spoken  to  her  supposed  unconsciousness 
after  her  fall.  Again  she  looked  up  with  pride,  as  he  spoke 
his  brave,  manly  words  from  the  pulpit;  and  she  remem 
bered  how  she  felt  they  were  her  words,  for  he  was  hers. 
She  lived  over  once  more  the  afternoon  in  which  he  had 
read  his  verses;  and  she  recalled  how,  while  she  shrunk 
from  having  him  avow  himself  just  then,  still  she  had  exulted 
in  seeing  his  heart  at  her  feet.  Her  whole  life  now  seemed 
divided  only  into  two  parts.  She  had  not  lived  at  all  till  she 


222  BLUFFTON. 

met  him.  Then  there  had  been  one  bright  year;  and  all 
since  then  was  a  wilderness. 

She  knelt  down  to  pray,  as  she  had  always  done  since  her 
unconscious  childhood  at  her  mother's  knee. 

"O  God!"  she  cried,  "must  it  have  been?  Is  there 
no  pity  in  heaven  for  broken  love  on  earth?  Canst  thou 
not  help  me  even  now?  But" —  springing  to  her  feet,  as 
the  thought  flashed  over  her  — "  it  was  religion  that  took 
him  from  me  !  How  can  I  hope  for  help  from  the  God  that 
tore  us  apart?" 

And  then  her  heart  would  stand  up,  and  cry  out  that  it 
could  be  no  true  religion  that  would  so  harden  and  cripple 
the  life.  Thus,  from  such  experiences,  were  born  many 
sceptic  questionings  as  to  the  principles  of  her  father's  faith. 
She  came  to  ask  herself  often  as  to  whether  Mark  was  not 
right. 

Then  she  would  get  books,  and  read  and  think  and  study. 
Thus,  as  the  years  went  by,  her  outlook  grew  broader.  And, 
though  she  had  no  hope  of  ever  seeing  Mr.  Forrest  again, 
she  was  gradually  getting  nearer  and  nearer  to  a  possibility 
of  understanding  and  sympathizing  with  his  thought. 

And  now  at  last  her  father  fell  sick.  It  was  a  long  and 
wasting  fever.  Night  and  day  she  directed  all  things,  and 
watched  him.  He  was  too  old,  and  his  vigor  too  much  ex 
hausted,  to  resist  the  attack.  When  the  fresh  sod  was  above 
him  where  he  slept  on  the  hillside  above  the  everlasting  flow 
of  the  river,  Margaret  herself  was  sick.  The  physician  told 
her  she  had  no  organic  disease  that  his  medicine  could 
reach :  she  was  only  worn ;  needed  to  throw  off  her  bur- 


THE    REVENGE    OF    SLIGHTED    LOVE.  223 

dens,  and  rest.  There  was  nothing  to  keep  her.  Her  sister 
Sue  had  been  a  year  married  to  Mr.  Snyder,  and  the 
younger  sister  could  stay  with  her.  More,  then,  because 
there  was  no  reason  for  doing  any  thing  else  in  particular, 
than  that  she  either  cared  for  or  expected  any  thing  from 
the  change,  it  was  decided  that  she  should  visit  California, 
and  spend  some  months  at  the  house  of  an  old  aforetime 
Eastern  friend  of  her  father's. 

For  two  reasons  I  shall  not  describe  the  journey.  It  is 
already  familiar  in  many  books  of  travel ;  and,  further,  we 
are  concerned  at  present  about  her  inner  life.  And,  should 
I  describe  only  what  she  saw,  it  would  be  hardly  worth 
while ;  for  she  was  in  no  mood  for  sight-seeing,  and  cared 
but  little  for  the  natural  wonders  through  which  she  passed. 
While,  then,  the  engine  puffed  on  day  after  day,  whirling  her 
across  plains,  around  the  craggy  edges  of  the  mountains, 
through  tunnels,  and  past  great  new  cities,  toward  a  new 
future,  she  sat  wrapped  in  her  thought,  and  living  in  the 
past. 

She  got  out  at  a  station  in  a  beautiful  valley :  there  was 
no  city,  and  what  could  be  called  even  a  village  only  by 
courtesy.  She  glanced  about  her,  and  saw  in  the  near  dis 
tance  a  section  of  a  bay ;  around  her  spread  a  level  valley 
a  mile  in  breadth  from  bay  to  foot-hill,  springing  from  which 
was  a  chain  of  irregular  mountains  stretching  parallel  with 
the  bay,  and  forming  the  other  side  of  the  valley.  The  val 
ley  itself  was  covered  irregularly  here  and  there  with  scat 
tered  clumps  and  groups  of  live-oaks,  ranging  from  clusters 
of  three  to  several  hundreds.  Instead  of  city  or  village 


224  BLUFFTON. 

there,  it  was  a  place  of  villas  or  country-seats  such  as  she 
had  never  seen  at  the  East.  Here  lived  the  wealthy  gold  or 
silver  kings  of  the  great  Occidental  metropolis.  Climbing 
up  on  the  foot-hills,  or  rising  above  the  oak  tree-tops,  she 
caught  glimpses  of  fanciful  towers;  and  everywhere  were 
the  strange  new  vans  of  the  windmills  that  she  had  never 
seen  before. 

Her  father's  old  schoolmate  met  her  at  the  station,  and 
gave  her  so  cordial  a  welcome  that  she  felt  at  once  as  though 
she  should  be  more  at  home  here  than  in  places  that  were 
thronged  with  the  ghosts  of  painful  associations.  If  she 
could  only  forget  the  past,  here  were  all  the  external  mate 
rials  for  a  paradise.  But  she  was  learning  now,  what  so 
many  in  all  ages  had  learned  before  her,  that  heaven  and 
hell  are  in  the  heart,  or  nowhere. 

It  was  a  charming  spot  in  the  foot-hills  to  which  she  was 
driven.  Perfect  in  natural  beauty,  the  place  had  all  the 
added  charm  that  the  landscape-gardener's  art  could  give  it. 
Winding  walks  and  drives ;  arbors ;  rustic  bridges  and 
mimic  waterfalls;  trees  of  every  latitude,  in  their  native 
forms,  or  cut  into  all  weird,  fantastic,  and  beautiful  shapes ; 
the  wide,  fresh  stables,  carriages,  harnesses,  horses ;  foreign 
and  domestic  animals,  wild  and  tame  ;  birds  for  sweet  song, 
or  beautiful  plumes ;  a  spacious  house  with  endless  piazzas, 
with  rustic  chairs  and  hammocks ;  odd  gables,  and  fanciful 
turrets,  and  hanging  windows,  and  angles  that  gave  out 
looks  toward  every  fair  thing  that  came  in  range  of  the  eye, 
—  such  was  now  her  home. 

But  the  irrevocable  past  haunted  her.     It  made  a  part  of 


THE    REVENGE    OF    SLIGHTED    LOVE.  225 

every  landscape.  It  shimmered  with  the  ripples  on  the 
surface  of  the  bay.  It  sat  by  her  side  in  her  drives.  It 
lurked  in  every  clump  of  trees.  It  was  a  part  of  the  lonely 
mountain  summit.  It  was  her  waking  dream;  it  was  her 
night  vision. 

One  day  they  made  a  little  party  to  visit  the  summit  of 
the  mountain.  Back  through  the  foot-hills  to  the  very  feet 
of  the  mountains  themselves,  there  ran,  or  rather  wound 
and  twisted,  a  creek.  It  was  low  and  clear  in  summer, 
but  in  the  rainy  season  full  and  turbid.  It  was  now  in 
June;  and  it  ran  part-way  full,  and  cool  and  clear.  For 
four  miles  the  road  followed  the  windings  of  the  creek. 
The  road  itself  was  arched  with  trees  so  completely,  that  for 
the  whole  way  there  was  no  sight  of  the  blue  sky,  except 
through  the  irregular  breaks  in  the  green.  Sun-flecked,  and 
carpeted  with  leaf-shadows,  the  road  was  a  fairy  turnpike 
into  a  fairy  world.  Here  and  there,  as  they  turned  some 
new  curve,  the  gray  limestone  cliff,  wrought  by  the  elements 
into  some  fantastic  shape  or  almost  human  form,  would 
spring  into  view  through  the  green  trees,  fifty  feet  up  the 
side  of  the  gorge  that  on  either  hand  hemmed  in  the  narrow 
valley. 

At  the  end  of  the  four  miles  was  a  green  glade,  a  lovely, 
open  spot,  where  were  a  hotel  and  a  group  of  cottages,  that 
had  grown  up  about  a  mineral-spring.  From  this  point 
they  struck  the  direct  ascent.  This  was  by  a  fine  turnpike 
that  wound  about  the  mountain,  doubling  on  itself,  and 
going  two  or  three  miles  of  turnings  to  bring  the  party  to 
a  point  just  above  where  they  were  half  an  hour  before,  and 


226  BLUFFTON. 

so  near  the  road  along  which  they  had  passed  that  they 
could  fling  a  pebble  over  into  it. 

When  they  reached  the  summit,  the  scene  that  burst 
upon  them  was  magnificent  beyond  the  painting  power  of 
words.  Twenty  miles  northward  the  mountain-range  ran, 
and  terminated  in  the  promontory  on  the  bay-ward  slope 
of  which  lay  the  metropolis  of  the  Pacific,  revealing  its 
location  by  the  cloud  of  smoke  that  hung  above  it.  To  the 
left,  and  sweeping  every  way  to  the  far  horizon,  lay  and 
shimmered  and  glistened  the  wide  ocean,  its  surface  heaving 
in  the  long  and  restless  roll  of  the  sea,  but  unbroken  by  a 
single  ripple.  A  sail  here  and  there  suggested  the  far-off 
ports  all  round  the  world.  Turning  to  the  right,  there  was 
first  the  San  Francisco  Bay,  an  unbroken  reach  of  water 
forty-five  miles  long,  and  from  four  to  fifteen  in  breadth. 
On  both  sides  of  the  bay,  the  valley  stretched,  dotted  with 
native  oak-woods  and  ranches,  and  homes  and  vineyards, 
and  orchards  of  every  fruit  from  pole  to  tropic,  cut  with 
creeks,  and  threaded  with  roads.  At  intervals,  towns  and 
cities  sprang  in  sight  on  both  sides  the  bay,  and  spires 
lifted  white  above  the  green  of  trees.  In  the  distance  was 
San  Jose;  and,  sweeping  round  beyond  the  bay,  another 
range  of  mountains,  with  old  Monte  del  Diablo  king  above 
them  all. 

"  Do  you  see  that  grove  of  oaks  over  yonder,  and  looking 
as  if  it  were  almost  at  our  feet?"  inquired  Mr.  Harrold,  her 
host. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  ten  miles  away  on  an  air-line,  that  is  now  your 
home." 


THE    REVENGE    OF    SLIGHTED    LOVE.  22/ 

"Can  it  be  possible?" 

"  Not  only  possible,  but  a  fact." 

"  But  this,  it  seems  to  me,  must  be  as  fine  a  view  as  earth 
can  show.  I  never  dreamed  of  any  thing  so  grand." 

"  Of  course  we  Californians  think  it  cannot  be  sur 
passed." 

"  And  I  am  a  Californian  now,  so  far  as  that  opinion  is 
concerned.  But  what  is  that  smoke  just  outside  the  Golden 
Gate  there  ?  " 

"  An  incoming  steamer  from  somewhere.  Probably  from 
Oregon  or  China ;  for,  if  it  were  on  the  Panama  line,  it 
would  have  passed  by  here." 

And  then  a  pang  of  remembrance  shot  through  her  heart 
as  she  thought  of  Mark,  who,  when  last  she  heard  of  him, 
had  sailed  for  some  far-off  port.  And  as  she  thought  of 
meetings  and  partings,  of  the  tragedies  of  human  life, 
woven  into  its  web  by  the  flitting  shuttles  of  swift-passing 
steamers  and  cars  shooting  to  and  fro  over  the  earth,  there 
ran  through  her  brain  the  old,  sad  lines,  — 

"  A  ship  comes  up  from  under  the  world. 

'  What  do  you  bring,  O  ship  ? '  he  cried. 
The  answer  came  :  '  'Neath  flag  unfurled, 

Laughter  and  song,  and  —  a  fair  dead  bride. 
" '  I  bring  fool's  jests,  and  —  a  heart's  deep  woe ; 
News  of  a  friend,  and  —  a  word  of  despair ; 
I  bring  bright  hopes  from  the  world  below, 

And  a  soul  storm-tossed  and  worn  with  care. 
" '  I  bring  a  child  whose  mother  is  dead ; 
I  bring  a  man  deserting  his  wife, — 
Light  and  shadow,  and  poison  and  bread, 
The  tragical  comedy  of  life. 


228  BLUFFTON. 

" '  Perhaps  I  bring  a  gift  for  you ; 
•    But  do  not  covet  it,  do  not  shrink : 
You  know  not  whether  'tis  false  or  true, 
Or  better  or  worse  than  you  can  think.' " 

She  roused  from  the  mood  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh. 

"  What  is  it?  "  said  Mr.  Harrold.     "  In  a  day-dream? " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  she  replied,  "  what  freightage  of  good 
and  evil,  of  hope  and  fear,  those  steamers  carry.  Who 
knows  what  of  dread  or  joy  that  ship  may  be  bringing  to 
land?" 

"  Has  it  any  thing  for  you,  do  you  thjnk?  " 

"  No.  My  ship  has  gone  down,  I  fear.  If  not,  I  do  not 
know  on  what  sea  it  sails." 

She  answered  gayly,  but  meant  more  than  she  cared  her 
tone  should  betray.  Could  she  have  seen  the  deck  as  the 
steamer  drew  up  to  the  dock,  would  she  have  been  glad,  or 
sorry?  Who  knows? 

The  next  Monday  morning,  when  the  mail  came  down 
from  the  city,  she  took  up  the  "Alta"  to  glance  over  the 
news.  Then  she  hurriedly  dropped  it,  turned  pale,  and 
hastened  to  her  room.  Mrs.  Harrold  picked  up  the  paper, 
and  looked  it  over  to  see  what  affected  her  so,  but  could 
find  nothing.  But  she  read  listlessly  the  following  item  :  — 

*  The  Rev.  Mark  Forrest,  just  arrived  per  steamer  from  China, 
preached  yesterday  in  the  Free  Presbyterian  church,  on  the  Ethnic 
Religions  as  related  to  Christianity." 

Laying  down  the  paper,  she  merely  remarked,  — 

"  I  do  not  see  any  thing  here  that  concerns  Margaret." 


ADRIFT.  229 


XXIII. 

ADRIFT. 

IT  was  in  the  year  1864  when  Mr.  Forrest  left  Bluffton. 
"  If  I  cannot  be  engaged  in  the  cure  of  souls,  at  least 
I  can  in  the  care  of  bodies,"  said  he  to  himself;  and  thus 
saying,  he  threw  all  his  energy  into  the  work  of  the  Sanitary 
Commission  in  the  South-West.  Through  his  experiences 
here  we  shall  not  care  to  follow  him.  We  only  need  to  know, 
that,  in  his  present  mood  of  mind,  he  did  not  care  to  spare 
himself;  and  that,  if  any  was  to  do  dangerous  work,  or  oc 
cupy  a  dangerous  post,  he  rather  sought  than  shunned  the 
opportunity.  He  was  too  manly  to  seek  death ;  and  yet  he 
was  compelled  to  confess  to  himself  that  he  did  not  care  to 
flee  from  it.  If  it  came  in  the  way  of  duty,  he  would  wel 
come  it  as  a  friend.  He  had  been  trained  as  a  minister,  and 
all  his  tastes  ran  that  way.  And  yet  an  impassable  wall 
seemed  to  shut  him  out  from  any  farther  progress  in  that 
direction.  And,  even  if  a  way  had  been  open,  it  seemed 
to  him  he  could  not  walk  it  without  the  face  of  Margaret 
Hartley  by  his  side.  Sometimes  he  would  have  moments  of 
anger  at  her  apparent  coldness  during  their  last  interview ; 
and  yet  he  held  her  in  too  high  respect  to  believe  she  was 
capable  of  caprice. 


23O  BLUFFTON. 

"Whether  I  understand  her  or  not,  or  agree  with  her  or 
not,"  he  would  think,  "  I  know  she  is  incapable  of  giving  any 
one  causeless  pain.  She  did  only  what  she  thought  was 
duty." 

So  he  could  not  invent  even  a  poor  excuse  for  either  anger 
or  hate.  She  still  nestled  in  his  heart,  the  one  fair  image  of 
the  only  woman  he  had  ever  loved.  But  this  image  was 
only  a  memory,  sinking  farther  and  farther  down  the  horizon 
of  the  past,  —  a  setting  and  not  a  rising  star :  so  he  had  not 
even  the  inspiration  of  hope.  At  least,  however,  he  could 
help  the  wounded,  and  write  out  the  last  love-messages  of 
the  dying.  To  this  best  comfort  for  a  hopeless  sorrow,  — 
the  consolation  of  helping  bear  the  burden  of  another, — 
he  now  devoted  himself. 

He  followed  the  march  of  Sherman  to  the  sea.  Thence 
he  came  North  to  assist  in  the  last  battles  and  marches,  and 
see  the  sword  of  Lee  given  into  the  persistent  hand  of 
Grant.  But  when  the  last  shout  of  triumph  went  up,  and 
the  war  was  over,  he  again  found  himself  with  nothing  to  do, 
and  his  heart  only  sorer  with  its  still  unhealed  hurt.  Going 
on  to  New  York,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  Tom  :  — 

NEW  YORK,  186-. 

DEAR  TOM,  —  The  war  is  over,  and  I  can  be  of  no  more  service 
here.  Nothing  opens  to  me  as  yet ;  and,  even  if  it  did,  I  am  now  fit 
for  nothing.  I  shall  recover  my  balance  some  day,  and  be  man  enough 
to  pick  up  some  life-work,  and  pay  the  world  for  my  standing-room  and 
the  lunch  I  get  from  the  common  cupboard.  But  meanwhile  I  am 
off,  —  nobody  knows  where,  and  nobody  cares ;  least  of  all,  myself. 
In  a  couple  of  weeks  I  shall  sail  for  Europe  ;  and  then  go  nowhere  in 
particular  and  everywhere  in  general.  I  am  going  to  attempt  the  im- 


ADRIFT.  231 

possible,  —  to  get  away  from  my  shadow.  The  effort  will  amuse  me, 
if  nothing  else ;  and  I  may  stumble  on  to  experiences  and  information 
that  will  be  of  service  to  me  —  when  I  come  to  myself.  I  shall  be 
hard  to  keep  track  of  after  I  am  aflight ;  and  you  may  not  often  hit  me 
with  your  letters.  But  let  me  hear  from  you  once  more  before  I  sail. 
I  need  not  tell  you  what  I  most  care  to  know. 

Not  quite  myself,  but  always  the  same  to  my  old  friend, 

MARK. 

The  answer  soon  came. 

MAPLE  CITY,  186-. 

MY  DEAR  OLD  FELLOW,  —  You're  not  the  man  I  take  you  for, 
Mark,  if  you  allow  any  woman  that  lives  to  crush  the  heart  out  of  you. 
Remember,  "  there's  good  fish  in  the  sea  as  ever  was  caught."  And 
yet  I  suppose  it's  hard  for  me  to  sympathize  with  you.  My  wife  — 
God  bless  her  !  —  was  stupid  and  prosaic  enough  to  fall  right  into  my 
arms  in  the  most  natural  way  in  the  world :  so  that  I  haven't  any 
romantic  and  heart-breaking  experience  by  which  I  can  interpret  yours. 
They  say,  "  The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth ;  "  but  mine 
runs  so  smoothly,  that,  if  the  proverb  is  true,  there  must  be  some  de 
fect  in  the  quality  of  my  affection. 

But  you  know,  Mark,  you  have  my  deepest  love  and  sympathy. 
I'd  gladly  give  up  a  part  of  my  comfort  if  I  could  transfer  the  title  to 
you.  Be  brave,  old  fellow,  and  "  fight  it  out  on  this  line,"  however 
long  it  takes. 

I'm  glad  you're  going  away ;  though,  now  I've  known  you  again,  I 
shall  be  confoundedly  lonesome.  But  it  will  do  you  good.  So  may  the 
winds  blow  you  to  some  harbor  where  you  will  find  as  good  as  you've 
lost! 

The  last  I  heard  of  Miss  Hartley,  she  was  living  quietly  with,  and 
taking  care  of,  the  old  judge.  They  say  she's  just  a  trifle  sadder,  and 
looks  worn ;  but  otherwise  I  hear  of  nothing. 

You  will  be  glad  to  learn  the  end  of  your  adventure  with  Miss  Smi 
ley.  Hank  Tyler,  the  man  I  told  you  she  was  engaged  to  before  you 


232  BLUFFTON. 

found  her,  like  the  true  fellow  I  thought  he  was,  has  married  her,  and 
they  are  living  in  Colorado.  She  has  come  into  her  own  and  her 
brother's  money ;  and  "  the  days  of  her  mourning  are  ended."  She 
has  your  photograph  in  her  chamber ;  and,  I  think,  worships  you  as 
her  saint. 

Now  Mark,  my  dear  boy,  good-by.     If  in  your  wanderings  you  do 

not 

"  Suffer  a  sea-change 

Into  something  rich  and  strange,"  — 

Keep  me  posted,  as  well  as  you  can,  of  your  doings.  And,  v/hen  you 
"  drop  anchor,"  hoist  a  signal  for 

Your  old  friend,  TOM. 

Beyond  the  mere  curiosity  of  travel,  the  thing  that  most 
interested  Mr.  Forrest  was,  naturally,  a  study  of  the  practical 
phases  of  the  religious  life  of  the  countries  he  visited.  Every 
man  —  lawyer,  farmer,  artist,  doctor,  merchant  —  carries 
about  him  his  own  personality  and  training,  and  necessa 
rily  sees  the  world  through  his  own  eyes.  If  he  doesn't 
always  "  talk  shop,"  still  it  is  inevitable  that  he  will  see  shop 
and  feel  shop.  So,  as  Mr.  Forrest  was  a  minister,  he  looked 
over  the  world  with  a  minister's  eyes.  The  evil  of  this  is 
when  the  manhood  withers  into  a  mere  profession,  instead 
of  wielding  the  profession  as  the  sculptor  handles  his  chisel. 

He  had  run  through  France  and  Spain,  and  stood  at  last 
in  Rome.  Here  he  met  an  American  gentleman.  Talking 
over  their  views  of  things  one  day,  Mr.  Forrest  remarked,  — 

"  There's  one  thing,  Mr.  Gordon,  that  strikes  a  religious 
man  strangely ;  and  that  is,  to  observe  that  these  European 
countries  that  have  the  most  Christianity  are  the  least  moral 
and  intelligent." 


ADRIFT.  233 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  with  some  aston 
ishment. 

"  I  mean  what  I  say.  The  independent  intelligence  that 
makes  the  freedom  and  civilization  of  England  and  Amer 
ica  seems  to  loosen  the  grip  of  the  Church,  and  to  tend 
toward  individuality  and  scepticism." 

"But  that  which  you  thus  criticise  is  not  Christianity. 
Look  at  Rome.  Do  you  call  this  flummery  Christianity? 
It  is  the  Roman-Catholic  corruption  of  Christianity,"  said 
Mr.  Gordon. 

"At  least,  I  think  the  question  has  two  sides,"  replied 
Mr.  Forrest.  "  You  can  regard  any  system  of  religion  as  a 
doctrine,  or  an  institution." 

"How?" 

"  Why,  when  we  speak  of  Buddhism,  for  example,  we 
may  mean  the  simple  moral  teachings  of  Sakya,  or  we  may 
mean  practical  Buddhism  as  it  really  exists.  We  judge 
Buddhism  by  the  effects  of  the  system  as  it  actually  works 
to-day.  Why  not  treat  Christianity  in  the  same  fashion? " 

"  Well,  explain  a  little  more,  and  perhaps  I'll  see  what 
you're  after." 

"  So  be  it.  We  Protestants  —  a  little  minority  of  Chris 
tendom  —  go  back  and  say  that  Christianity  is  only  the  pre 
cepts  Jesus  taught.  Unitarians  go  farther  yet,  and  pick  out 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  or  the  Golden  Rule,  and  say 
'  That's  all  there  is  of  Christianity,'  and  then  denounce  the 
Catholic  growth  of  all  the  Christian  centuries  as  a  parasite." 

"And  isn't  it  so?" 

"  Is  a  parasite  usually  larger  than  the  whole  tree  ?     Is  a 


234  BLUFFTON. 

tree  simply  the  roots,  or  the  total  development  of  those 
roots  and  the  surrounding  circumstances?  When  the 
Church  was  organized,  it  was  '  called  Christian  at  Antioch ; ' 
and  why  isn't  the  natural  result  of  the  growth  of  seventeen 
centuries  to  be  called  Christianity?" 

"  You  think  that  Roman-Catholicism,  then,  is  true  Chris 
tianity?" 

"  I  do  not  see  why  not,  as  truly  as  the  present  institutions 
and  practices  of  Buddhism  are  to  be  regarded  as  true 
Buddhism.  When  we  speak  of  so-called  heathen  nations, 
we  think  we  treat  them  fairly  by  pointing  to  the  life  of  the 
common  people  who  profess  them  as  illustrating  their  natural 
effects  and  value.  If  we  treat  Christianity  that  way,  then  it 
will  fare  as  hardly  as  most  religions  of  heathendom  ;  while, 
if  we  treat  the  heathen  religions  as  we  want  Christianity 
treated, — that  is,  judge  them  by  the  best  utterances  of  their 
highest  and  purest  minds,  —  we  shall  find  them  more  nearly 
on  a  level  with  our  own  faith." 

"  You  think  Christianity,  then,  no  better  than  Buddhism," 
said  Mr.  Gordon. 

"By  no  means.  But  I  think  they  should  be  treated 
equally ;  judged,  in  both  cases,  either  by  their  best  or  their 
worst.  And  I  further  think,  that,  when  we  speak  of  what 
Christianity  has  done  for  civilization,  we  ought  to  remember 
what  civilization  has  done  for  Christianity.  If  Christianity 
does  it  all,  why  isn't  the  Christianity  of  the  Turkish  Empire 
up  to  the  level  of  Boston  ?  And  how  does  it  happen  that 
the  constituted  expounders  and  defenders  of  Christianity 
have  persistently  fought,  so  long  as  they  could,  almost  all 


ADRIFT.  235 

the  growing  elements  and  forces  that  make  up  modern  civ 
ilization?" 

"But  have  they?" 

"Please  point  out  an  exception.  The  ruling  orthodoxy 
never  yet  originated  a  new  thing  for  civilization,  and  never 
accepted  it  till  it  had  to." 

"  Holding  such  views  as  this,  how  do  you  account  for  the 
fact  that  religion  is  always  the  foundation  and  bulwark  of 
morality,  on  which  all  civilization  rests?" 

"  I  don't  account  for  it :  I  deny  it.  It  is  so  far  from  the 
truth,  that  the  leading  moral  sense  of  the  world  is  frequently 
in  advance  of  any  form  of  instituted  religion.  And  naturally 
so ;  for  institutions  stand  still,  or  try  to,  while  the  moral 
sense  of  the  world  is  a  growth  that  each  new  year  puts  forth 
new  leaves.  Otherwise  there  would  be  no  hope  of  any  bet 
ter  future." 

This  conversation  is  quoted  merely  as  a  specimen  of  one 
of  his  states  of  mind,  and  of  the  critical  spirit  with  which  he 
looked  upon  society  and  religion  in  the  lands  through  which 
he  travelled. 

Having  visited  Egypt,  and  passed  through  Palestine, 
he  determined  to  make  a  tour  of  the  world.  So  by  the 
Suez  Canal  he  made  his  way  to  Calcutta.  Thence  he 
passed  to  Hong  Kong.  Making  what  study  he  could,  or 
cared  to,  of  the  life  and  religions  of  India  and  China,  he 
took  steamer  for  San  Francisco,  and,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  entered  the  Golden  Gate  little  thinking  what  eyes 
were  watching  the  ship  from  the  mountain  summit  far  down 
the  coast 


236  BLUFFTON. 

When  in  California  years  before,  he  had  known  a  Pres 
byterian  minister,  at  that  time  strong  in  his  orthodoxy.  He 
was  surprised  and  pleased  to  learn  that  he  had  now  aban 
doned  his  old  position,  and  had  established  a  flourishing 
liberal  society,  under  the  title  of  "The  First  Free  Presby 
terian  Church  of  San  Francisco." 

Thinking  he  would  like  to  go  over  old  times  with  him, 
trace  the  growth  of  his  thought,  and  find  how  nearly  they 
were  at  one,  he  called  upon  him.  He  found  him,  not 
fairly  sick,  but  confined  to  the  house,  and  somewhat 
troubled  as  to  the  supply  of  his  pulpit  for  the  next  Sunday. 

"  If  it  was  an  orthodox  church,"  said  Mr.  Brimmer,  "  I 
could  find  a  man  to  preach  for  me  on  any  street-corner. 
But  men  that  will  stand  in  a  free  pulpil  are  rare.  Now,  you 
must  preach  for  me." 

"  But  how  can  I  ? "  said  Mr.  Forrest.  "  I  haven't 
preached  these  three  years ;  and,  besides,  I  haven't  a  sermon." 

"Must  you  have  a  written  one?  " 

"  No.  I  can  talk,  after  a  fashion,  if  I  have  any  thing  to 
say.  But  the  only  thing  I've  been  thinking  of  in  a  religious 
way,  of  late,  is,  the  characteristic  points  of  the  heathen 
religions,  and  their  relations  to  Christianity." 

"  But  that's  capital.  Why  won't  you  talk  on  that  ? 
Nothing  would  suit  my  people  better." 

"  Well,  if  it  will  help  you  out,  I'll  try  it." 

And  so  the  next  Sunday  he  stood  once  more  in  the  pul 
pit.  But  how  were  all  things  changed  !  His  old  friends 
thought  he  had  given  up  all.  He  felt  that  he  had  gained 
all.  God  was  no  more  an  exclusive  God,  and  religion  no 


ADRIFT.  237 

longer  a  petty  squabble  of  sects.  The  universe  was  his 
Bible ;  of  which  the  old  Hebrew  and  Christian  Scriptures, 
still  dear  and  sacred,  were,  after  all,  only  chapters. 

He  announced  as  his  subject,  "  The  Natural  Develop 
ment  of  Religions."  As  a  part  of  his  lesson,  he  read  "The 
Problem  "  of  Emerson ;  and  he  gave  special  emphasis  to  the 

words,  — 

"  Not  from  a  vain  or  shallow  thought 

His  awful  Jove  young  Phidias  brought; 
Never  from  lips  of  cunning  fell 
The  thrilling  Delphic  oracle  : 
Out  of  the  heart  of  Nature  rolled 
The  burdens  of  the  Bible  old  ; 
The  litanies  of  nations  came, 
Like  the  volcano's  tongue  of  flame, 
Up  from  the  burning  core  below. — 
The  temples  grew  as  grows  the  grass. 
The  word  unto  the  prophet  spoken 
Was  writ  on  tables  yet  unbroken. 
One  accent  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
The  heedless  world  hath  never  lost." 

Then  he  developed  the  idea,  that  all  religions  are  the  nat 
ural  growth  of  the  religious  nature  of  man :  that  no  one 
is  supreme  above  all  others  by  virtue  of  any  supernatural 
pre-eminence ;  but,  if  it  be  supreme  at  all,  it  is  so  only  as 
one  man  or  one  nation  surpasses  another,  or  as  one  tree 
overtops  all  others  in  a  forest. 

And,  as  he  looked  over  the  report  in  the  "Alta"  the  next 
morning,  what  would  he  not  have  given  to  know  what  other 
eyes  had  been  startled  by  his  simple  thought,  and  then  in 
secret  been  blinded  by  tears  ! 


238  BLUFFTON. 


XXIV. 

A  STRANGE   MEETING. 

MR.  HARROLD  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brimmer  were  inti 
mate  friends.  They  were  frequently  together,  both  in 
town  and  at  the  country-seat  of  the  former. 

So  on  Monday,  when  Mr.  Forrest  called  on  his  friend  to 
see  how  he  was  getting  on,  and  after  they  had  talked  a  while 
on  general  topics,  Mr.  Brimmer  said,  — 

"Are  you  tied  up  with  any  engagements  this  week? " 

"  No,"  he  replied :  "  unfortunately  I  am  not  tied  up  to 
any  thing  these  days.  I  am  the  Wandering  Jew ;  and  my 
only  limitation  is,  that  I  shall  not  keep  still  anywhere  for 
long." 

"  When  you  were  on  the  coast  before,  did  you  know  any 
thing  of  the  San  Jose"  Valley?" 

"  I  have  only  passed  through  it  hurriedly ;  but  I  saw 
enough  to  learn  that  it's  a  paradise." 

"Well,  then,  I've  a  pleasant  day  for  you,  if  you  like." 

"Why,  what  is  up?" 

"  You  see,  Harrold,  one  of  our  leading  bankers,  has  the 
perfection  of  a  lovely  villa  down  the  bay.  He's  an  old  friend 
of  mine;  and  on  Thursday  —  I'll  be  out  by  that  time  —  a 


A    STRANGE    MEETING.  239 

party  of  friends  is  going  down  to  his  place  for  the  afternoon. 
I  am  at  liberty  to  take  any  one  along  I  please.  Wouldn't 
you  like  to  go?" 

"  What's  to  be  done  ?  and  who's  to  be  there  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  it  will  be  only  a  quiet  knot  of  right  pleasant  people, 
ladies  and  gentlemen.  And  there  will  be  bowling  and  bil 
liards  and  croquet  and  walks  and  drives,  —  if  any  one 
pleases,  —  and  lounging  under  the  trees.  The  only  law  is, 
that  you  must  do  just  as  you've  a  mind  to,  make  yourself  at 
home,  and  be  happy." 

"Well,  that's  a  pleasant  programme.  I  think  I'll  join 
you." 

So  it  was  arranged.  Thus  the  great  world  swings  round, 
wantonly  flinging  us  apart,  and  as  wantonly  tossing  us  near 
again ;  as  the  wind  scatters  and  then  piles  up  the  autumn 
leaves. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Forrest  received  his  mail  from  the  East, 
and  in  it  a  short  note  from  his  old  friend  Mr.  Winthrop. 
And  while  he  reads  we  will  look  over  his  shoulder,  and  copy 
one  brief  extract. 

"  If  it  has  not  already  come  to  hand,  you  will  very  soon  receive 
a  letter  from  New  York,  that  will  be  worthy  of  your  most  serious 
attention.  A  party  of  wealthy  and  intelligent  gentlemen  in  that  city, 
having  become  dissatisfied  with  the  existing  churches,  have  determined 
to  form  a  religious  society  that  shall  be  fearless  enough  to  face  the 
light,  and  competent  to  deal  with  the  living  movements  of  the  age. 

"  They  have  every  thing  for  immediate  organization,  except  a  minis 
ter.  They  have  heard  of  you,  and  the  battle  you  fought  out  here.  It 
so  happened  that  the  leading  one  of  their  number  is  a  business  ac 
quaintance  of  mine  ;  and,  finding  that  you  and  I  were  old  chums,  he  has 


24O  BLUFFTON. 

written  me  about  you.  Knowing  my  love  for  you,  and  my  admiration 
for  your  course,  you  will  readily  understand  what  sort  of  character 
I  have  given  you.  I  have  also  hinted  to  him,  that  your  fitness  for  such 
a  task  will  be  very  largely  enhanced  by  your  journey,  observation,  and 
study. 

"  As  soon  as  I  received  your  last  letter,  and  learned  the  probable 
date  of  your  arrival  in  San  Francisco,  I  sent  him  notice  at  once.  And 
now  I  have  just  gotten  word  that  a  letter  was  sent  to  you  last  week, 
inviting  you,  as  soon  as  you  would  consent,  to  come  East,  and  take 
charge  of  their  new  movement. 

"  Now,  my  dear  fellow,  don't  say  no." 

"  Here  at  last,  then,"  said  he,  "  is  a  door  open.  And 
perhaps  it  is  open  soon  enough.  I  have  learned  much  in 
my  wanderings.  And  besides  that,  by  the  struggle  and 
sorrow  I  have  gone  through,  I  have  learned  that  it  is  no 
quick  and  easy  thing  to  slip  out  of  an  old  faith,  and  slip  into 
a  new.  So,  instead  of  being  hard  and  impatient  toward 
those  just  learning  to  walk  after  wearing  shackles  for  years, 
I  trust  I  shall  be  tender  and  helpful  in  my  rationalism." 

The  next  day  came  the  letter  from  New  York,  which  he 
read  and  pondered  well,  and  determined  to  accept.  But 
how  his  heart  still  ached  with  the  memory  of  the  past !  He 
was  not  a  man  to  be  crushed  by  it.  He  would  fling  it  off, 
and  do  a  man's  work,  though  with  sadness  in  his  soul. 
"Fling  it  off?"  No:  it  would  not  be  flung  off.  Neither 
did  he  really  desire  that.  It  was  the  sunniest  spot  in  all 
his  history.  And  he  would  remember  it,  though  now  and 
henceforth  he  walked  under  a  cloud.  But  he  would  treasure 
it  in  the  sacred  privacy  of  his  soul,  and  walk  his  way  alone. 
So  perhaps  he  would  be  less  trammelled  in  his  work.  At 


A    STRANGE    MEETING.  24! 

any  rate,  whether  it  were  well  or  ill,  no  present  face,  how 
ever  fair,  could  for  a  moment  seduce  him  from  his  tender 
loyalty  to  the  remembered  image. 

On  Thursday  a  large  party  gathered  at  the  depot,  and 
took  special  train  for  Mr.  Harrold's  villa.  He  was  surprised 
to  see  so  many. 

"  Why,  Brimmer,"  said  he,  "  I  didn't  suppose  the  whole 
town  was  going." 

"  Oh,  this  is  nothing  unusual !  It  is  often  many  hundreds 
that  make  such  a  party.  The  grounds  are  so  large,  and  the 
accommodations  so  ample,  that  there  will  seem  to  be  no 
crowd.  These  men  think  nothing  of  spending  a  few  thou 
sands  in  this  way  on  an  afternoon.  They  charter  a  special 
train,  and  take  a  caterer  from  the  city." 

"  At  any  rate,  one  will  have  a  better  chance  to  be  alone, 
if  he  chooses.  A  crowd,  next  to  the  forest,  is  the  place  for 
solitude." 

"But  have  I  told  you,  Forrest,  the  occasion  of  this 
party?" 

"  I  don't  remember  that  you  have*" 

"  Well,  then,  get  ready  for  a  vision  of  loveliness.  It's  all 
in  honor  of  a  wonderful  beauty  that  is  visiting  Harrold  from 
the  States,  —  daughter  of  an  old  schoolmate  of  his,  or  some 
thing  of  the  sort.  It  is  lucky  for  me  that  I'm  married. 
But  you,  old  fellow,  may  be  in  danger." 

"  I'm  past  all  that,"  said  he  with  an  air  of  careless  gayety ; 
though  he  meant  it  with  a  sad  emphasis  down  in  his  heart. 

Meantime  the  cars  were  rushing  down  the  valley,  reveal 
ing,  on  either  hand,  glimpses  of  mountain  and  bay,  of  oak- 


242  BLUFFTON. 

grove  and  orchard,  lovely  nooks  in  the  foot-hills,  and  villages 
across  the  water. 

The  most  of  the  party  were  old  acquaintances,  and  had 
been  there  before.  So,  when  they  reached  the  villa,  without 
any  formality  they  scattered  rapidly  over  the  grounds,  each 
following  the  bent  of  his  or  her  own  fancy. 

Mr.  Forrest  and  Mr.  Brimmer  amused  themselves  a  while 
in  the  billiard-room,  and  then  strolled  through  the  walks, 
and  up  in  the  tower  that  overlooked  the  place. 

"  Let's  sit  here,  and  talk  a  bit,"  said  Mr.  Forrest.  "  This 
must  be  a  lovely  way  to  live." 

"  Yes,  when  a  man  has  made  his  pile.  We  ministers  are 
in  no  special  danger  of  doing  that,  I  take  it." 

"  No  :  I've  never  heard  of  ministers  getting  rich  off  their 
salaries.  They  sometimes  marry  a  fortune,  though  they  do 
preach  that  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil." 

"  Bah  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Brimmer,  "  what  a  humbug  all 
that  trash  is  !  Everybody  knows  money  makes  civilization. 
In  the  first  ages  there  was  some  sense  in  the  common  talk 
about  worldliness,  and  the  separation  of  saints  and  sinners. 
But  with  the  passing-away  of  paganism,  and  the  growth  of 
our  modern  life,  there's  no  excuse  for  it.  It's  pretty  hard 
to  tell  sometimes,  whether  there  is  more  worldliness  in  the 
Church,  or  more  godliness  in  the  world. 

"But  what's  the  matter,  Forrest?  you  look  pale.  You 
don't  faint,  do  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Forrest  did  not  answer,  for  he  did  not  hear.  He  sat 
utterly  lost  and  confounded  at  what  he  saw. 

Mr.  Brimmer  looked  in  the  direction  in  which  he  was 


A    STRANGE    MEETING.  243 

staring,  and  saw  nothing  more  wonderful  than  a  party  of 
half  a  dozen  people  coming  up  the  pathway  toward  the 
tower. 

"Why  don't  you  speak,  Forrest?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Brimmer. 
"  Did  you  never  see  a  group  of  people  before  ?  Why,  that 
must  be  the  stranger.  But  she  is  handsome  though,  isn't 
she?" 

"Brimmer,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Forrest  excitedly,  springing 
to  his  feet,  "  I  can't  bear  to  meet  her  here.  She's  coming 
up  the  tower." 

"Well,  why  not?  I  suppose  you've  met  women  before 
in  your  travels  round  the  globe." 

"Yes,  and  I've  met  her  before;  and  that  is  why  I 
can't." 

But  before  he  could  explain,  and  find  a  way  of  escape, 
the  party  appeared,  headed  by  Mr.  Harrold.  He  grasped 
Mr.  Brimmer  by  the  hand,  who  then  introduced  him  to  Mr. 
Forrest.  By  this  time  all  were  up  the  stairs.  The  eyes  of 
the  two  old-time  lovers  met.  Margaret  grew  very  white, 
and  grasped  the  rail  to  support  herself;  and,  as  they  were 
introduced,  faltered  out,  addressing  Mr.  Harrold,  — 

"  Yes,  we  have  met  before  —  at  the  East." 

The  friends  noticed  how  strange  and  forced  the  greeting 
was,  but  were  too  courteous  to  mark  it,  and  so  make  it  more 
embarrassing.  So,  though  they  wondered  what  it  meant, 
they  tried  to  have  all  trace  of  it  forgotten.  After  they  had 
looked  about  a  little,  Mr.  Harrold  said,  — 

"  Come,  the  whole  party  is  going  for  a  walk  up  the  foot 
hills.  Let's  join  them." 


244  BLUFFTON. 

Though  it  was  torture  for  Mr.  Forrest  to  be  so  near  Miss 
Hartley,  and  not  be  able  to  ask  her  a  thousand  questions,  — 
of  past,  of  present,  how  she  came  here,  and  of  other  things 
more  personal  still,  —  and  though  he  knew  it  must  be  equal 
ly  hard  for  her,  there  seemed  to  be  no  way  of  escape. 

As  the  merry  company  climbed  the  easy  slope,  and  broke 
out  at  every  fresh  resting-place  into  new  exclamations  of 
delight  at  the  widening  view  of  the  valley,  the  beauty  of 
the  shadows  flitting  in  endless  panorama  over  the  sides  and 
tops  of  the  farther  mountains,  or  the  lengthening  reach  of 
bay  with  here  and  there  the  white  of  a  sail,  Mr.  Forrest 
spoke  in  an  undertone  to  Miss  Hartley,  and  said,  — 

"  For  God's  sake,  Miss  Hartley,  don't  say  No.  I  must 
speak  with  you  a  moment." 

"But  how,  here?"  she  replied. 

"The  company  is  gay  and  absorbed.  They'll  not  miss 
us.  May  we  not  fall  behind  for  a  little? " 

So,  excusing  herself  to  Mr.  Harrold,  she  walked  more 
slowly,  and  let  the  party  precede  her  up  the  mountain. 

"  Here,"  said  Mr.  Forrest,  "  they're  lost  in  the  trees. 
May  we  not  sit  down  under  this  oak?  " 

Though  much  constrained  at  first,  they  were  soon  speak 
ing  of  the  past  in  at  least  the  tone  of  their  old-time  friend 
ship.  Mr.  Forrest  could  not  help  noting  how  her  eyes 
brightened,  and  the  color  came  and  went  in  her  face,  and 
that  she  seemed  glad  to  be  in  his  company  once  more. 
His  heart  leaped  up  with  hope  again ;  though  he  hardly 
dared  ask  what  changes  the  years  had  brought,  or  whether 
the  flight  of  time  had  left  her  free. 


A    STRANGE    MEETING.  245 

"  Miss  Hartley,"  said  he,  "  am  I  forgiven  beforehand  for 
asking  what  perhaps  I  have  no  right  to  ask?  " 

"  You  have  a  right  to  ask  all  things  you  will." 

"  Has  any  other,  then,  gained  the  heaven  from  which  I 
was  cast  out?" 

"  Mr.  Forrest,  did  you  once  believe  I  loved  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  believe ;  and  that  one  trust  is  the  sunny  spot  in  a 
life  all  dark  beside." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  is  in  me  to  love  but  once,"  she  quietly 
replied. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  as  he  exclaimed,  — 

"  Then,  Madge,  you  "  — 

Just  then  she  rose,  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and 
said,  — 

"See,  they  are  returning  down  the  hill.-  We  must  join 
them." 

But  so  changed  was  he  in  heart  and  appearance,  that  Mr. 
Brimmer  exclaimed  to  him,  as  they  linked  arms,  and  the  rest 
of  the  party  sauntered  on  in  irregular  groups,  — 

"  Why,  Forrest,  you  look  as  if  you'd  seen  a  vision  on  the 
mountain.  I  don't  think  Moses'  face  shone  brighter  than 
yours." 

"  Banter  away,  old  fellow.  I  can  stand  it  now,  for  I  have 
seen  a  vision." 

"  Have  the  astrologers  and  soothsayers  of  your  court  wis 
dom  enough  to  interpret  it?"  said  he.  "If  not,  perhaps 
you'd  better  bring  it  to  me  for  light." 

"  I  think  I  can  guess  it.  Nevertheless  I  think  you  can 
help  me.  I  must  stay  here  to-night." 


246  BLUFFTON. 

"  Well,  here's  an  adventure.  Is  it  about  the  beauty  ?  I 
think  I  can  fix  it,  whatever  it  is." 

Mr.  Forrest  then  told  him  his  whole  story ;  to  which  he 
listened  as  though  it  were  a  chapter  out  of  a  new  novel. 
When  he  was  done,  he  exclaimed,  — 

"But  this  is  a  queer  old  world.  How  things  do  come 
about !  To  run  away  round  the  world  from  a  broken  ring, 
and  find  it  ready  to  be  mended  again,  on  the  other  side 
the  globe  ! 

"  It's  lucky  I  happened  along.  I  am  perfectly  at  home 
with  Harrold.  We'll  both  stay  down  to-night,  and  you  shall 
have  your  opporunity.  But  she's  a  beauty  though,  Forrest. 
And  here  I  am  a  minister.  Lucky  all  round  !  Why,  I'll 
marry  you  for  half  a  price." 

Mr.  Brimmer  seemed  as  happy  for  his  friend  as  he  did 
for  himself. 

The  party  returned  to  the  city,  and  evening  came.  Mr. 
Brimmer  explained  affairs  to  Mr.  Harrold ;  and  so  the  two 
found  themselves  at  liberty  to  be  alone.  As  the  sun  set,  and 
twilight  came  on,  they  went  for  a  walk  through  the  grounds, 
and  entered  an  arbor  overhung  with  grape-vines. 

"O  Madge  !"  he  cried,  "the  horror  of  these  three  endless 
years  ! " 

As  he  spoke,  her  own  three  years  of  waiting  and  heart- 
hunger  crowded,  a  dismal  procession,  through  her  brain. 
She  glanced  up  at  his  face ;  and  then,  as  if  fleeing  from  the 
pursuing  phantoms  of  the  past,  with  one  word,  —  "  Mark  !  " 
—  half  spoken,  half  sobbed,  she  rushed  into  his  arms,  and 
was  folded  close  to  his  heart.  He  lifted  her  face  towards  his 


A    STRANGE    MEETING.  247 

with  one  hand,  while  he  clasped  her  with  the  other,  and 
fairly  rained  his  kisses  on  forehead,  eyelid,  and  lips. 

"But  let  us  be  glad,  Madge,"  said  he  at  last:  "this 
crowning  happiness  pays  for  it  all." 

"  O  Mark,  if  you  only  knew  what  it  cost  me  to  even  seem 
to  be  cruel  to  you  ! " 

"  It  was  an  awful  dream,"  said  he ;  "  but  now  we  are 
awake  and  in  heaven.  Let  us  sit  down  and  talk. 

"And  now,  Madge,"  he  continued,  "though  you  are  in 
my  arms  once  more,  and  it  would  kill  me  to  lose  you  again, 
I  dare  not  ask  you  to  lay  your  hand  in  mine,  until  I  tell  you 
what  I  am,  and  the  path  of  life  that  is  opening  before  me. 
I  have  wandered  and  studied  and  suffered,  —  as  you  know," 
said  he,  in  a  lower  tone,  —  "since  that  dreadful  night  at 
Bluffton.  But,  religiously,  I  am  only  more  and  more  con 
vinced  that  God  is  the  God  of  the  whole  earth,  and  of  all 
religions.  If  I  work  again,  it  must  be  as  one  absolutely  free 
to  find  God's  truth  any  and  every  where,  and  speak  it  in  all 
simplicity,  but  in  all  fearlessness." 

"  And  I,"  she  replied,  "  have  greatly  changed.  I  have 
tried  to  read  and  study,  these  years,  and  think  I  understand 
you  now.  You  know  through  what  a  bitter  struggle  I  clung 
to  father  and  what  I  thought  was  duty.  I'm  thankful  now 
that  I  was  strong  enough  to  suffer,  and  not  to  break  his 
heart.  But  now  he  may  look  upon  it  as  he  was  too  old  to 
look  upon  it  here." 

"  I  have  just  received  this  letter  from  New  York."  And 
here  he  unfolded  and  read  it  all  aloud.  "  You  see,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  it  is  to  be  on  the  broadest  basis.  We  shall  not  put 


248  BLUFFTON. 

in  our  creed  any  thing  we  do  not  know.  It  will  be  a  church 
of  and  for  this  world,  which  is  God's  world.  We  shall  only 
try  to  make  men  and  women  noble  here ;  to  build  up  and 
purify  society ;  to  build  God's  kingdom  out  of  solid  truths,  on 
solid  ground.  We  shall  trust  the  future  to  Him  who  alone 
knows  any  thing  about  it.  We  shall  have  faiths  and  hopes 
and  sentiments  and  poetry ;  but  we  shall  try  and  remember 
that  they  are  such,  and  not  make  our  guesses  and  imagina 
tions  and  wishes  into  sharp  stones  with  which  to  strew  the 
path  of  life,  and  make  the  feet  bleed  that  travel  over  them. 

"  Can  you  find,  Madge,  any  thing  in  a  work  like  this,  to 
engage  your  head,  and  enlist  your  heart  ?  " 

Saying  which,  he  reached  out  toward  her  his  hand.  In 
this  strong  hand  she  quietly  laid  her  own,  as  she  replied,  — 

"  In  the  dear  old  Bible  story  that  mother  read  to  me  as 
a  child,  you  have  my  answer :  '  Whither  thou  goest  I  will 
go,  and  where  thou  lodgest  I  will  lodge ;  thy  people  shall 
be  my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God.'  " 

He  drew  her  head  down  upon  his  shoulder,  just  as  the 
yellow  moon  came  up,  looking  through  the  vines,  and  shed 
ding  her  tender  benediction  upon  their  happy  love. 


DATE  DUE 


u£»VJ- 


0  4  1990 


2  d  1989 


ifi 


